


Where the Heart Is

by Nkala99



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Past Child Abuse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nkala99/pseuds/Nkala99
Summary: Early days in the Bartlet administration, a startling discovery is made about one of their own that has shocking repercussions.
Comments: 49
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Nanowrimo 2020. It has been completed, and I'll be posting as often as I can type it. There are a few notes before you jump in:
> 
> 1.) I did quite a bit of research on the character backgrounds and on general functions of Congress. This is not betaed, so any mistakes are mine.  
> 2.) I stayed as much with canon on most things, but in others I chose to deviate. The decisions were mine. As a result, there may be some OOC behaviors. If that bothers you, turn back now. Some decisions include the portrayal of John Hoynes  
> 3.) I owe the inspiration for this story to a number of other amazing authors. I loved ‘Tommy Boy’ by gibbsheroic27 and ‘Long Lost Son’ by collegegirl2805 (both on ffnet). The idea of Sam being a long-lost son is one of my favorite tropes and I wanted to give it a try. The other author I would like to credit is Roo’s ‘On the Road to the Real Thing’. The portrayal of John Hoynes made me stop to think more about this character. ‘Where the Heart Is’ is a sort of crossroads between these ideas.

_Tuesday, January 27_

Papers. So many papers.

“Sam?”

The stacks were growing, pressing in on him. Breaths started coming in faster, shorter- was it getting hard to breathe?

“Sam!”

The papers were closing in over his head now, blocking out the light . . . where was everyone? Couldn’t they see he was being buried alive?

“ _Sam_!”

Sam jolted upright with a sharp gasp, chest heaving as wide blue eyes swept the room. He tried to find the offending stacks of papers but instead found Josh standing over him with a worried look on his face.

“What?” Sam demanded.

“You okay?” Josh asked him. “You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Sam glanced around again, the familiar four walls of his office coming into view around him. His eyes fell on the pile of folders and papers strewn across his desk and he began shuffling them into some semblance of order. “I’m fine . . . fine.”

Josh leaned back against Sam’s desk and folded his arms. The concern on his face seemed to deepen. “Did you sleep here _again_?”

“It would appear so,” Sam replied, the faintest hint of snark in his tone.

Josh was undeterred. “Sam.”

Sam moved a book on top of a stack of papers. “Josh.”

“Sam, this makes three nights in a row,” Josh stated. “If you keep this up, the Secret Service is going to start charging you rent. Go home; take a day off to recharge. The country won’t lapse into anarchy because you decided to clock out for the day.”

Sam snorted indelicately. “I can’t go home right now; there’s too much work to do.” He began gesturing at each newly organized stack of files and books on his desk. “There’s the position papers on global warming, climate change, and fossil fuel consumptions. There’s papers on privacy issues with social media. Legal asked me to verify confidentiality agreements involving ongoing investigations and what should be released to the press. And that’s just what’s due _today_ , not to mention President Bartlet’s administration goals speech. _That’s_ happening in four weeks, and we haven’t even cleared an outline yet. I don’t have _time_ for a vacation right now.”

“Did I say ‘vacation’?” Josh retorted lightly. “I just meant it was okay to go ahead and take the normal eight hours or so that people are generally entitled to take within a workplace environment. Can’t you delegate some of this out to the rest of your department?”

Sam leaned back in his chair and wearily scrubbed at gritty eyes. “I already did. I passed along most of the initial research phases of upcoming papers, less urgent news highlights, and general press release bites. Toby’s still swamped with filling the last of our spots from the latest applicant pool, and CJ’s pulling people to help her finish organizing her press briefing structure, and they’re trying to find time to help out on getting the administration goals topics finalized. _Everyone’s_ swamped; not just me.”

“Still, I didn’t find anyone _else_ asleep at their desk,” Josh pointed out.

Sam rolled his neck, working out the cricks. “I can handle it. We’re barely a week into our new administration. Things will settle down soon.”

“Yeah, but if you keep this up, you may not last long enough to see that happen,” Josh pointed out. “I’m not worried about you handling this; I’m worried about the burnout that you’re clearly on track for. Why are you pushing yourself so hard? You already got the job.”

Sam pulled up the calendar on his laptop to look through his appointments for the day. “It’s not enough to ‘get’ the job; you have to work hard to ‘keep’ the job.”

Josh frowned. “Sam, did . . . are you worried you’re going to be fired?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course not. But I need to show my department that I’m capable of doing this job. That means I need to work twice as hard as everyone else.”

Something in the bitterness among Sam’s words struck a chord in Josh. “Did someone say something to you?”

Sam’s denial was immediate and expected.

“Sam,” Josh said quietly.

Sam sighed. “No one said anything to me. But I did overhear someone complain about working for a kid half his age.”

Josh scowled. “Sam-.”

“I _know_ it was just coworkers venting,” Sam cut him off. “I _know_. But I don’t want to give anyone cause to doubt my ability to do my job.”

“So your solution is to work yourself into the ground?” Josh stated flatly.

“Josh-,” Sam began.

“Sam, you wouldn’t even _be_ here if you weren’t more than capable of doing this job,” Josh told him. “Hell, President Bartlet _knew_ he wanted you as his Deputy Communications Director way back in Chicago. We don’t need you to be superman, Sam. Just be _you_. That’s more than enough.”

Sam smiled faintly at his best friend. “I appreciate the pep talk, Josh, but this is me.” He sighed again, looking at the mess on his desk. “I have a lot to get through today. I’m going to take five minutes to track down some coffee, and then get back to it.”

Josh straightened as Sam rose to his feet. “Take ten and go freshen up, too. Senior Staff is in a couple hours; I don’t think you’d want to go looking like some hobo I picked up off the street outside the Metro.”

“As if _you_ would be caught dead near a Metro station,” Sam retorted, walking with Josh out of his office.

“Stranger things have happened,” Josh replied. He slapped Sam on the shoulder. “See you in a few.”

Sam nodded as Josh headed in the direction of his own office. His eyes slipped over the slowly filling communications bullpen and the few people there, then turned his gaze down at his rumpled suit.

Reflecting that Josh might have had a point about his appearance, Sam decided a quick shower and change in the gym was in order. He retreated to his office for his spare suit and promptly stumbled over a forgotten stack of books just inside his door.

Maybe coffee first, Sam reconsidered. The caffeine would help wake him the rest of the way up, and maybe even help keep him upright.

Maybe.

* * *

Leo took his messages from Margaret with a distracted ‘thank you’ as he entered his office, his mind on the conversation he’d just finished with the president. He glanced through the messages to see if anything needed his immediate attention as he sat behind his desk, then looked around the room at his senior staff.

Toby was leaning forward in his chair towards CJ, who mirrored his pose from the couch. The two appeared to be bickering over the latest person admitted to the press room but Leo doubted it would amount to any sort of change.

Sam was sitting off to the side, bent over a notepad balanced on his knees and scribbling furiously. He seemed oblivious to everything around him, focused entirely on the words spilling out of his pen.

“ . . . just one cup, Donna, not a golden apple from the Garden of Hesperides!”

“Your well of random knowledge doesn’t impress me,” came Donna’s even tone.

“Donna!” Josh appeared in the doorway to Leo’s office and turned to face his assistant.

“See you after your meeting,” Donna replied. Her fading click of heels reached Leo’s ears as Josh entered the office and dropped into a chair near Sam.

“All right, all right,” Leo called out, drawing everyone’s attention. “Let’s get started; we all have plenty to do.”

CJ and Toby settled into their seats and turned to Leo. Josh reached across and nudged Sam, who glanced up in surprise.

“First, Josh; Representative Briggs appears to be our lone holdout in getting Franks’ energy bill out of Ways and Means,” Leo began. “I need you to meet with him and figure out why that is.”

“No problem,” Josh replied easily. “I’m heading up to the Hill this afternoon to meet with Franks. I’ll take care of it.”

Leo nodded his thanks. “Next; there’s a situation brewing with rumors of abortion clinics about to get the ax. Evidently our electing a Roman Catholic president is causing quite the stir among liberals.”

Sam frowned. “But he’s a Democrat.”

Leo raised his hands in a ‘what can you do?’ manner.

“Has the press asked you anything?” Toby asked CJ.

“Not anything specific,” CJ replied. “It’s been brought up, but so has stem cell research, LGBTQ rights, drug policy, and second amendment concerns. The usual amount of gossipping, speculating, and supposition that comes with a new administration.”

“And how, exactly, do you know it’s ‘usual’?” Josh asked.

CJ leveled a deadpan look on him. “So I’m told.”

“As long as it remains rumors, I’m fine with it,” Leo stated.

“The press will want to know what the president thinks,” CJ added.

“About what?” Josh asked. “Shutting down the clinics, or that there are rumors about it?”

“Both,” CJ answered.

“Our answer’s the same either way,” Toby said. “The president has not made any statement regarding abortion clinics. Any plans he has for them, either way, won’t happen without meeting with interest groups from both sides.”

“We’ll have to deal with the issue sooner or later,” Sam told Toby as CJ scribbled Toby’s statement down on her notepad. “It’s not just going to go away.”

“Later is good,” Toby replied. “We have plenty of other issues to deal with that need our attention now.”

“Speaking of which,” Leo cut in, “we’re about a month out from the president’s administration goals speech. Where are we with that?”

“Toby and I need one more meeting with the president to finalize the outline,” Sam promptly answered. “Once we have that, we can begin setting up meetings with the appropriate interest groups and farm out research sections.”

“What have you got so far?” CJ asked, pen poised at the ready over her notepad.

“Economic reform package, employment and labor statistics, education interest groups, and health care,” Sam said, double-checking his notes. “We’ve got welfare reform listed, but that needs the most research.”

“I’ll see about getting you some time,” Leo promised. “Are we done hiring for the communications department yet?”

“Almost,” Toby replied. “There’s a few more interviews scheduled for this afternoon. If they aren’t complete morons, then we’ll be done and I’ll be able to take some of the load back off of Sam.”

Sam blinked at him. “I’m fine.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Toby replied. “I just thought it might be good for your car to stop gathering dust in the parking garage.”

“Leo, I’ve also been getting questions from the press about the president’s position on climate change,” CJ spoke up.

“And?” Josh asked.

“ _And_ it would be nice to know the president’s position,” CJ snarked. “I like to know these things. It works out nicely when the press asks me questions and I actually have answers to give them. They like when I do that. Really, it’s a relationship that benefits us all.”

“Nobody likes a smart ass, Claudia Jean,” Josh teased.

“CJ, I’ve already scheduled meetings with several environmental groups to hear their concerns,” Sam said. “If the press asks, just tell them that the president is making every effort to act in the best interests of the public.”

“The oil industry won’t like the sound of that,” Josh commented.

“One problem at a time, please,” Leo told him. “Now, I’m also getting asked by some teacher unions about the president’s position on school vouchers-.”

“I already took care of that.” Sam rustled through the papers in his folio, pulling one out and passing it to Leo.

Leo took the paper and scanned over it. Slowly, he began to nod. “Good, Sam. This is good. I’ll just need the research on school vouchers and their alternative options-.”

“Got that too.” Sam passed Leo a thin folder from his folio, then leaned back. At the silence that followed, he glanced around to find everyone watching him. “What?”

“I didn’t know you were gunning for Leo’s job,” CJ stated.

“Have you saved any tasks for the rest of us?” Toby added.

Sam blushed.

“All right, that’s enough,” Leo said. “I got a new task for all of you. The president wants to look at getting S. 286 back on the docket in Congress and onto the floor.”

Josh sat up straight in his chair. “Wait; are you _serious_?”

Leo gave him a wry look. “When have you ever known me _not_ to be?”

“Uh . . .” CJ lifted a hand. “What’s S.286?”

“It’s a bill that Hoynes introduced back during his second senate term that never got out of subcommittee,” Josh answered. “He refused to allow amendments to it, so it got pigeonholed. He didn’t take that very well. If you’re planning to resurrect 286, you better be ready for Hoynes to get involved.”

“So?” Sam asked. “It _was_ his bill.”

“Yeah, but something about this bill pushes his buttons,” Josh insisted. “I wasn’t working on his committee at the time, but one of the guys I worked with was. Hoynes basically put him in charge of not only trying to get 286 going again, but to block any advancements of 286 that didn’t get his seal of approval.”

“Okay,” CJ said, drawing the word out. “But what _is_ it?”

Josh glanced at Leo. Leo waved a hand at him.

“It’s a bill that, if passed, promises to provide computers and internet access to low-income schools across the country at no cost to them,” Josh told her.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said. “I mean, that would go a long way towards reducing the education gap among low-income and minority students.”

“And the subcommittee wouldn’t go for that?” CJ asked.

“I never said it was a bad idea,” Josh pointed out. “It’s just too expensive; no one wanted to shave funding off any existing programs, and a tax increase to fund the bill would have been way too high.” He looked at Leo. “How is the president planning on getting 286 back to committee?”

“We found a sponsor who agreed to help us out,” Leo told him. “We’re going to drop the internet access part from the bill, change computers to devices to allow for flexibility, and push forward with providing those devices. Computers and tablets cost a lot less than they did fifteen years ago, so we think we’ll be able to swing it. Josh, I’m putting you in charge of getting the support we’ll need on the Hill. By the time President Bartlet addresses Congress, he wants to be able to tell them and the country that we’re putting devices in the hands of students in need.”

“Not a problem,” Josh assured him. “And Sam here,” he slapped a hand on Sam’s back, “is going to help me.”

Sam’s head jerked towards him in surprise. “I am?”

“He is?” CJ echoed.

“Because you think Sam needs _more_ work to do?” Toby asked.

“Nope,” Josh replied. “Because Sammy here can get me a meeting with Congressman Winters.”

Silence met his proclamation.

“Congressman Winters,” Toby repeated, his tone flat.

“Yes,” Josh nodded.

“Appropriations subcommittee cardinal Christopher Winters,” Toby added.

“That’s the one,” Josh confirmed.

“Wait,” said CJ. “Isn’t that the guy everyone calls the dragon of the House of Representatives because of how he hoards funding for projects?”

“Yep,” Josh replied.

“How in the hell is Sam going to help you with setting up a meeting with Winters?” Leo asked.

Josh looked at Sam who was shaking his head, eyes pleading for Josh to stop.

“Something you want to share with the rest of the class, kids?” Toby asked.

Josh gestured at Sam. Sam winced, then slumped his shoulders.

“He’s my uncle,” he admitted to the room.

CJ’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “The most feared man in either House in Congress . . . is _your_ uncle?”

Sam nodded.

CJ glanced at Toby, then Leo, then back to Sam. “I don’t get it.”

“You see, CJ, when a man and a woman love each other very much-,” Josh started.

“He’s my mom’s older brother,” Sam cut in quickly. “He . . . yeah.”

“This is the same guy who single-handedly got Congressman Sanders ousted from office for voting against him on the floor?” Toby asked.

“That’s not exactly-,” Sam tried.

“How could someone like _that_ be related to our Sam?” CJ asked.

Sam frowned, blinking at CJ. He glanced at Josh. “I’m not entirely sure if I should be offended or not.”

“Well, it _is_ CJ,” Josh told him.

Sam’s frown deepened. “Was that supposed to help _clarify_ things?”

“Okay then,” Leo said, pulling their conversation back on track. “Josh, do what you gotta do. Just keep me updated, and do your best not to burn any bridges that we might need further down the line.”

“So who’s going to break the news to Hoynes?” Josh asked. “Once he gets wind of this plan, he’s going to be like a dog with a bone.”

“You leave Hoynes to me,” Leo told him. “You just worry about getting that bill through Congress. CJ, Toby; hold off on releasing anything to do with 286 until after I speak with Hoynes. I’d rather he hear the news from me than a reporter.”

Toby nodded.

“You got it,” CJ acknowledged.

“Then if that’s all, get outta here and go do some work,” Leo said.

CJ and Toby hurried out of the office, resuming their discussion from earlier. Josh waited for Sam to organize his folio, then joined him as he headed out of Leo’s office.

“I wish you hadn’t gone and told everyone about Uncle Chris,” Sam stated.

“Was it a secret?” Josh asked, concern tugging down the corners of his mouth.

“He’s not going to appreciate my pushing the president’s agenda on him every time we want a bill to get through the House,” Sam told him.

“It’s not _every_ opportunity,” Josh corrected him. “Just this one.”

Sam scoffed. “For now. Just wait; once word gets around, people will be knocking down my door for favors.”

They turned around a corner and entered the communications bullpen. A solidly-built man at the desk just inside the bullpen glanced up at them, and Sam nodded at him distractedly.

“You’ll still help me with 286, though, right?” Josh asked, a wheedling note creeping into his voice.

“It just so happens that my mother left me a message the other day asking me to get in touch with Uncle Chris,” Sam said. “I guess he’s been asking to see me, though I doubt this is what he had in mind.”

“No, that’s perfect!” Josh exclaimed. “You can call him back and set up a meeting, and I’ll come with you!”

Sam halted just in front of his office door and turned to face Josh fully. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, man. It might be better if I go alone for this first meeting.”

“What’s the big deal?” Josh asked. “I’ve met him before, back when we were both aides; remember? He won’t mind me tagging along.”

“Josh-,” Sam tried again.

“Great!” Josh said. “Listen; I’m really swamped today with appointments. Try to set the meeting for tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Josh-.”

Josh slapped Sam on the back, a bright grin lightening up his face. “You’re the best, buddy! Let me know when it’s set, all right?” He glanced at his watch, spun on his heel, and strode quickly towards the policy bullpen. “DONNA!”

Sam watched Josh leave, an uneasy feeling beginning to churn in his stomach.

“Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam tore his eyes away from the bustling hallway and turned to find his assistant watching him in concern.

“I’m fine, thanks Cathy,” he replied. He started to head into his office, then paused. “Oh, Cathy- could you please get me whatever you can find on S. 286?”

“Sure, Sam,” Cathy replied.

“Thanks.” Sam retreated into his office and set his armful down on his desk. Glancing around at the work waiting for him, along with the new arrivals awaiting his attention in his inbox, Sam grabbed the stack that held that day’s press briefing notes to finish editing.

* * *

The Vice President’s office at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building was a mirror of the West Wing in the White House if the sheer level of activity from its staff was anything to go by. Leo had to excuse himself no less than four times as he maneuvered around fleet-footed staffers only half-paying attention to where they were going. His presence garnered several curious looks, but no one stopped him as he made his way around the corridors.

John Hoynes was standing to one side of his office, his head bent over a file that his own chief of staff, Mark Reynolds, was holding. The rest of his senior staffers were just exiting the office as Leo slipped inside. Leo nodded to several of the faces he recognized as he moved to stand near a tall, oaken bookshelf to wait for a chance to speak.

“. . . yeah, if you’ll move that to next Monday at two-thirty, that’ll give us time to get what we need,” Hoynes’ voice emerged out of the bustle. “Thanks, Mark. See you in thirty?”

“See you then, sir.” Mark closed the folder and started to head out of the office. His steps faltered slightly as he caught sight of Leo, but a small nod from Hoynes sent him on his way.

“Leo,” Hoynes greeted, stepping closer. He held out a hand. “Didn’t think I’d see you on this side of the street. Get turned around on your way to work?”

Leo accepted the handshake with a grin. “Well, if I did, you’d have no problem showing me the way out.”

Hoynes chuckled appreciatively. “I’m not too sure about that; this building is quite the maze still, and we’ve been here since November.” He gestured to a couple nearby chairs. “What brings you to my neck of the woods? It must be important if you came yourself; you can’t be any less busy than we are, and we’re _swamped_ with work.”

The two men sat down. Hoynes reached for a glass decanter filled with ice water from the end of the table and lifted it, his look questioning. Leo declined the offer with a shake of his head.

“There’s no shortage of work to do, that’s for sure,” Leo agreed as Hoynes poured a glass of water for himself. “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you about 286.”

The glass of water paused halfway to Hoynes’ mouth. Hoynes frowned in confusion. “Why? It’s been gathering dust in a drawer for the last ten years. Unless you can get Congress to loosen its grip on the purse strings, I’m pretty sure that’s where it’s going to stay.”

“It’s a good bill, John,” Leo told him. “The president wants to take it out, dust it off, and put it back on the agenda.”

“And make some changes,” Hoynes stated, setting his glass down.

“Necessary changes, yes,” Leo said.

“And just what _are_ these necessary changes?” Hoynes asked.

“Changes that will greatly increase the bill’s chances of getting passed,” Leo told him.

Hoynes refused to be distracted. “What changes, Leo?”

“We’re changing computers to devices, but we’re shelving the internet access,” Leo stated.

Hoynes’ frown deepened. “Leo-.”

“John, it won’t pass with internet access,” Leo said. “It’s too expensive. We can’t afford both.”

Hoynes surged to his feet, one hand running through his hair. He spun and pointed at Leo. “You can’t just drop the internet access! Without it, the bill is pointless! You might as well just stick thousand dollar paperweights in each classroom!”

Leo slowly rose to his feet. “John, I didn’t come here to get your permission. I came as a courtesy to you. We’ve already found a sponsor willing to work with us on this. With the amendment, it’ll move to the floor for a vote. WIthout it, it’ll stay stuck in subcommittee.”

“286 may not have gotten out of subcommittee, but it’s not going to pass without internet access,” Hoynes stated.

“It’ll pass, John,” Leo insisted.

“No, it won’t,” Hoynes countered. “I may not have had enough backing to move it forward, but I _do_ have enough to prevent it from passing without internet.”

“John, you can get internet access on _another_ bill,” Leo pointed out. “Let us get devices in the classrooms first. Hell, we’ll work _with_ you to get internet on the next one. Why does it have to be on 286?” Leo paused, studying Hoynes for a moment. “Does it have anything to do with Charlie?”

“ _God_ , Leo!” Hoynes walked to the other side of the room, anger bright in his eyes. He stalked back towards Leo. “Not _every_ thing has to do with Charlie, you know! This bill wasn’t even written until ten years _after_ he was taken! Did it ever occur to you that I’m not letting it drop for the simple reason that the bill won’t work without internet access?”

“The president disagrees,” Leo said in a calm, even tone.

“Big surprise,” Hoynes shot back.

“This is happening, John,” Leo said. “We would rather have it happen with your support, but we’re doing it either way.”

“You keep internet access on the bill, you’ll have my support,” Hoynes stated.

A firm knock on the door frame to the office drew both men’s attention to Hoynes’ personal assistant. The young woman was standing in the doorway, her eyes on Hoynes.

“I’m sorry, sir, but your wife is on the line,” she told the Vice President.

Hoynes nodded and thanked his assistant, then moved to his desk. “Excuse me, Leo, I need to take this. Since you found your way into the building, I trust you can find your way back out?”

Leo took the dismissal for what it was and slipped out of the office.

* * *

end chapter 1


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I forgot to mention that, while the series originally takes place in the late 90s/early 2000s, I’m pulling them forward to today. Expect to see more of today’s problems, discussions, and technology in this story. I also shifted things around to make Sam younger.

_Wednesday, January 28_

“. . . looking forward to meeting with the French president next month here at the White House,” CJ concluded. “An event which, I’m sure, promises to be very exciting. Have we got any additional questions?”

The press room exploded into a wall of sound, every reporter in the room raising their hand and calling CJ’s name. CJ nodded at a man sitting halfway towards the back. “Greg?”

Greg Brock, the reporter from the New York Times, nodded back. “CJ, I’ve got two sources telling me that the White House is looking into reopening S.286. How accurate is this information?”

“Fairly accurate, I’d say,” CJ replied. “I’ll have more specifics for you about S.286 during the midday briefing.”

The noise swelled again, but another voice cut through the din. “CJ, S.286 has been resurrected on three separate occasions by then-senator John Hoynes. Does the White House have a comment on how they plan to succeed where Vice President Hoynes has failed?”

CJ kept her deadpan expression in place as she looked at the reporter who had spoken. “Why yes, Chris, the White House _does_ have a comment on how we plan to move 286 to the floor. And I plan on _making_ that comment at the midday briefing.” She turned her attention to the rest of the room. “That’s it for now, folks. Same bat channel later today. See you then.”

Collecting her briefing notes, CJ ignored the reporters’ calls for her attention as she strode through the briefing room towards the exit.

Toby fell into step beside her. “Good briefing.”

“Know what would be better?” CJ asked as they navigated their way towards the communications bullpen. “Actually _having_ that comment on 286 for the midday briefing.”

“Sam’s finishing up the draft as we speak,” Toby assured her. “Do you have time to go over it with us?”

“For you?” CJ said. “I have all the time in the world.”

As they passed Sam’s office, Toby rapped on the window and beckoned for Sam to join them. Sam scrambled for his laptop and notepad, hurrying to join them next door in Toby’s office.

“You got the thing?” Toby asked him as he claimed a spot on the sofa beside CJ.

Sam passed Toby his notepad. “It’s all set; just need to send it to print.”

“Can you give me the background on 286 so that when I’m asked questions, I’ll actually understand what I’m saying?” CJ asked Sam.

Sam nodded as Toby sat behind his desk, his eyes scanning the words on Sam’s notepad. “So . . . Hoynes has been an advocate for opportunities for technological advancement in rural areas for pretty much all of his political career. He also believes in federal government regulations funding those kinds of things. About fifteen years ago, he authored a bill that was designed to supply computers and internet access to low-income schools across the country whose student populations met certain criteria.”

“And we’re changing ‘computers’ to ‘devices’,” CJ confirmed.

“Using ‘computers’ limits the scope of what can be used,” Sam explained. “If we write ‘computers’, then computers are all that can be purchased using money from this project. ‘Devices’ allows for flexibility; at the time, it was pretty much computers and ebooks, which some districts were using. Now that definition can extend to tablets, Chromebooks, iPods, and so on.”

“Got it,” CJ said, nodding as she jotted down notes.

“So once Hoynes introduced 286, the Rules Committee sent it to Appropriations,” Sam continued. “It bounced around a couple subcommittees for weeks, but it never made it past legislative hearings, and got buried.”

“Okay,” CJ said. “Chris said that Hoynes got it to committee three times.”

Sam nodded. “He did, but 286 has actually been brought out five times.”

“ _Five times_?” CJ echoed.

“Which suggests that either the bill has some serious merit, or Hoynes doesn’t know when to quit,” Toby spoke up, his eyes never leaving Sam’s notepad.

“Given what I know so far, it sounds like it might be both,” CJ commented. “So what happened next?”

Sam checked the notes on his computer. “About a year later, Hoynes brought 286 out and sent it back to the Rules Committee. This time it made it past the legislative hearings and into mark-ups, but Hoynes refused to accept most of the changes, and it stalled again.”

“Did he expect 286 to make it all the way through both houses without _some_ changes?” CJ asked. “Even _I_ know that doesn’t happen.”

“Apparently, Hoynes was amenable to _some_ changes- eligibility criteria, application processes, types of computers- but any move to take out major parts of the bill and he shut it down,” Sam replied. “That’s why it failed the other three times; no matter which house it starts in or what committee it gets assigned to, if they make major alterations to the bill, Hoynes pulls his support and it fails.”

“So he’d rather tank his own bill than get even a portion of it passed?” CJ asked.

Sam shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“If that’s true, then won’t Hoynes try and block _us_ from getting 286 to the floor for a vote?” CJ asked.

“He might,” Toby said. He tossed Sam his notepad, who plucked it out of the air easily. “A lot’s changed in ten years, though. We’ve got a strong sponsor in the House and Josh wrangling support from various congressmen. He can try to block it, but he won’t get very far.”

CJ shook her head. “I think you’re underestimating Hoynes, but what do I know?”

Sam privately agreed with CJ, but knew better than to voice that thought. Instead, he asked, “Hoynes worked as a senator for a lot of years. Do you think we’ll be able to garner enough support to outweigh his connections?”

A knock on Toby’s door drew their attention. Josh hovered in the doorway, looking around at them. “What are you all up to?”

“A slumber party,” Toby snarked. “We just finished telling ghost stories and were just about to braid Sam’s hair. You’re just in time.”

CJ snorted in amusement. “Sam was just filling me in on 286.”

Josh moved fully into the office and closed the door behind him. Leaning back against the door, he folded his arms. “Well, we’ve got Congressman Wylie on board to sponsor the bill for us in the House. She’s getting it back on the agenda today with our amendments. With a little luck, we’ll start the legislative hearings by the end of this week.”

“Has anyone heard how Leo’s meeting with Hoynes went yesterday?” CJ asked.

“Yeah,” Josh answered. “Hoynes wasn’t very happy with Leo, which really isn’t a big surprise. Hoynes never liked compromising on 286.”

“I wonder why,” Sam said. “What makes _this_ bill different from the other ones he’s authored?”

Josh shrugged. “Who knows? As far as I know, he’s never mentioned why to anyone. That’s pretty typical, though; Hoynes can be the most stubborn jackass you’ve ever met.”

Toby raised an eyebrow at him.

Josh frowned. “What?”

CJ and Sam exchanged amused grins before quickly looking away from each other.

“Anyway,” Josh continued, turning to Sam, “I actually stopped by to ask Sam about that meeting with Winters.”

“Which, by the way, I still can’t get over how you never told us about being related to him,” CJ said pointedly to Sam.

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’ve never told me about _your_ extended family!” he protested.

“None of _my_ extended family control the direction of congressional spending for this country,” CJ said.

Sam looked at Toby and Josh for help. Toby’s expression was expectant, and Josh’s held far too much amusement to be of any help.

“There’s really not much to tell,” Sam insisted. “He’s my mom’s older brother. He’s pretty strict; worked as a lawyer out in LA before running for Congress. My mom took me to visit him a lot when I was growing up, but he wasn’t exactly the doting uncle type.”

“But he’s completely willing to help out his favorite nephew and his favorite nephew’s best friend,” Josh added.

Sam frowned. “I’m his _only_ nephew.”

Josh shrugged. “Pretty sure that makes you his favorite by default. Are we on for the meeting?”

“He had an opening on his schedule today right after lunch in his office,” Sam confirmed. “I feel I should warn you though; my being related to him offers no guarantees for his support, and he does _nothing_ for free.”

“Not even for family?” CJ asked.

“ _Especially_ not for family,” Sam said. “My uncle didn’t come by his reputation by accident.”

“Hey, I can work with that,” Josh said. “Just show me a door and I’ll find my way through. Listen; I’ve got some calls I need to go and make; do you want to meet up for lunch and head over to his office right after?”

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed.

Josh flashed him a bright smile and, with a wave to everyone, left to make his calls.

CJ rose to her feet. “All right, mi amor; I’m going to go and finish reading up on the information on 286 before the midday briefing. See you later.”

“Bye, CJ,” Sam replied.

“You got some time before lunch?” Toby asked as the door clicked shut behind CJ. “We’ve got time with the president this afternoon and I’d like to finalize an outline for the administration goals speech before then.”

Sam nodded and flipped to an empty page on his notepad. “I was thinking . . .”

* * *

Congressman Christopher Winters had spent a lifetime establishing a reputation as a powerful, influential, and intimidating man, and his office was a perfect reflection of that persona. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, packed full of tomes about politics, law, and history. Another wall was filled with awards and pictures of Winters shaking hands and smiling with famous faces. Sam hadn’t had the opportunity to visit his uncle’s office often, but to him it hadn’t seemed to change in the last several years.

Unbidden, the memory of his last visit flashed across his eyes, and he winced at the remembered pain that went with it.

Josh straightening his suit jacket beside him jolted him back to the present. Sam focused on the sight of his uncle rounding his solid oak desk to greet them.

“Samuel,” Winters said, stretching a hand forward. “It’s been a few years. I think the last time I saw you, you were still a congressional aide.”

Sam shook his uncle’s hand. “Yes, sir. It’s good to see you again.” He released Winters’ hand and gestured to Josh. “You remember my friend, Josh Lyman?”

“Of course,” Winters replied, shaking Josh’s hand.

“Thank you for allowing us to meet with you today, sir,” Josh said.

Winters gestured to the plush armchairs before his desk, inviting them to sit. “It’s been quite some time since I last saw my nephew. Now that he’s going to be based in DC for at least the next four years, I expect I’ll see more of him.” He moved to sit behind his desk as Josh and Sam took their seats. “Congratulations, by the way, on winning the election.”

“Thank you, sir,” Josh replied. “You know, Sam’s been doing great work with our staff. His writing has been inspired; he wrote a lot of President Bartler’s stump speeches, you know.”

Sam felt a blush infuse his cheeks at the praise. He appreciated what Josh was trying to do, but he also knew that the effort was wasted.

Winters offered them a tight smile. “Yes, well. Let’s not beat around the bush. You’re here for my help on S.286.”

Josh’s jaw dropped open. He turned to Sam, who shrugged helplessly and shook his head.

“How, uh . . . how do you know that, sir?” Josh asked.

Winters’ smile transformed into a smirk. “I _have_ been around the block a few times,” he replied. “I saw the White House press briefings; heard the talk in the halls out here- it wasn’t all that difficult to put together. You should know, however, that it’s never made it out of subcommittee.”

Josh nodded, recovering quickly from his surprise. “We know, sir, but we’ve taken care of that.”

One of Winters’ eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

“One of 286’s biggest flaws has been the potential expense, to either Congress or the taxpayers,” Josh explained. “We intend to fix that by moving forward with supplying devices and leaving internet access for another bill. I’ve already spoken to several congressmen about the changes, and so far the feedback has been favorable.”

“And John Hoynes, as the original author, is okay with those changes?” Winters asked with no small amount of skepticism.

Josh flashed Winters a grin. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Winters tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes studying Josh carefully. “I was under the impression that you worked out of his office when he was still here.”

“Yes, sir,” Josh confirmed. “I was.”

“Hmm.” Winters leaned back in his chair, templing his hands and tapping his fingers against his mouth. “Do you recall what happened when Senator Hawkins from Kansas tried to put 286 back on the agenda?”

Sam straightened in his chair. “Senator Hawkins modified 286 to supply a one-to-one initiative for sixth through twelfth grades in Kansas. But didn’t that get shut down before it even made it out of the Rules Committee?”

Winters nodded at his nephew and turned back to Josh. “Hoynes may not have ever gotten enough votes to get 286 to the floor, but he _does_ have enough to stop it from ever getting there, too. If you don’t have Hoynes’ support, then you don’t have a bill.”

Josh waved the warning aside. “That’s not going to be an issue this time,” he said confidently. “We’re all on the same team now.”

Winters lifted a shoulder. “If you say so.”

Josh leaned forward. “The reason we wanted to speak with you is, when the bill gets to Appropriations, it will need serious backing to send it to the floor. We’d like your help with that.”

“I’m sure you would.” Winters’ eyes cut over to Sam, who couldn’t quite hide the cringe at the look his uncle was giving him. Looking back to Josh, Winters continued, “Most people do.”

Josh cleared his throat. “You see, you control which bill gets priority when it gets to your committee. We would appreciate your support in making that happen.”

Sam’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out the conversation. A conversation eerily similar to the one he’d witnessed his uncle having with Congressman Sanders when he’d been an aide in Sanders’ office. Sam fought back the sudden urge to drag Josh out of the room and apologize for taking up Winter’s time, sending up a fervent prayer to whoever was listening that everything would be fine.

“Support, well . . . support is a two-way street,” Winters was saying to Josh. “If I’m going to devote time in my committee to a bill like S.286, then I’m going to need something in return.”

“What did you have in mind?” Josh asked.

“A lot of bills and resolutions pass through my committee; good bills,” Winters said. “Bills that don’t often stand a chance. Presidential backing on one or two of them will give them substantial weight and would be welcome.”

Josh glanced at Sam. “We may be able to help you with that. It would depend on the bills themselves, of course.”

“Of course.” Winters sat up straighter in his chair, bracing his elbows on his desk. “And I would be more than happy to explain them to the president myself.”

Josh exchanged another look with Sam. “You . . . want a meeting with the president?”

Winters shrugged nonchalantly, but Sam was far from fooled. “It _would_ help to secure White House support on these bills.”

“President Bartlet is a busy man-,” Josh began.

“So it might not be right away,” Sam cut in quickly, leaning forward. He ignored Josh’s confused look, focused on concluding their meeting on a good note. “We’ll bring up your request with President Bartlet.”

“You do that,” Winters replied. He stood, bringing Sam and Josh to their feet. “Do be sure to let my assistant know when you’re ready to set something up.”

“Thank you for your time, Congressman,” Josh said as they were ushered towards the door.

“Not at all,” Winters replied pleasantly. “It’s always good to see my nephew and his friends. Speaking of which . . .”

The relief at the promise of escape died a bitter death in Sam’s stomach when he felt Winters grab his arm in a vise-like grip, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’d like a few extra minutes with my nephew if you don’t mind,” Winters said to Josh. “It’s been awhile, like I said, and I’d like to catch up. We won’t be long.”

Sam swallowed around a lump of panic rising in his throat. Though Winters’ words were innocuous enough, his tone and his grip were red flags, warning Sam of his uncle’s anger.

Josh glanced between Sam and Winters, oblivious to his best friend’s distress. “Ah . . . of course,” he replied. He turned to Sam. “I’ll just wait for you out in the lobby.”

The door closed between them with an earth-shaking sense of finality.

Winters’ grip on Sam’s arm tightened, causing Sam to wince. “Samuel. It’s been awhile since I last saw you.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” Sam replied.

“Too long, evidently, if you don’t remember what happened the _last_ time you tried to abuse your political connections to manipulate me,” Winters continued.

The bland tone was worse than the yelling, akin to a simmering volcano just gathering energy before a violent eruption.

“B-But I . . . m-mom called me!” Sam stuttered. “She said you _w-wanted_ to see me!”

Winters’ grip tightened further, his fingers digging painfully into Sam’s arm as he shook the younger man fiercely to quiet him. Sam bit his tongue to keep from crying out, his arm beginning to tingle from lack of circulation.

“I don’t _appreciate_ you using our relationship for your gain,” Winters growled. “Not _even_ if it’s for the president, and certainly not for a bill that has no chance of seeing the light of day.”

“I’m not-,” Sam tried.

Winters shook him again, hard enough to make his teeth rattle. “Now, you’re going to do something for me. You get me that meeting with Bartlet, or I’ll remind you what happened the _last_ time you let someone use you to curry favors with me.”

He abruptly shoved Sam against the door as he released him. Sam immediately straightened, putting his back to the door.

“Get going,” Winters ordered, retreating back to his desk. “You wouldn’t want to keep your friend waiting.”

“Y-Yes, sire,” Sam mumbled. He fumbled for the doorknob. “S-sorry, sir.”

Slipping into the outer office, Sam closed the door with a solid _click_. He avoided the assistant’s gaze, ducking his head and striding briskly into the hall.

His arm was tingling furiously as blood rushed back through it. Sam clenched and unclenched his fist, hoping to speed up the process as he headed towards the lobby.

As promised, Josh was waiting for Sam, but he wasn’t alone. John Hoynes’ lanky frame was squared off against Josh’s own rigid posture. Though the expressions on both men’s faces looked mild enough from an outsider’s perspective, Sam was well-versed in recognizing the tension radiating from both. He moved silently to join them.

“. . . this building for a lot of years,” Hoynes was saying.

“And you just happened to decide to visit those friends after Leo talked to you about 286?” Josh said, not moving to acknowledge Sam’s arrival.

Hoynes’ blue eyes shifted from Josh to Sam, then did a double take. His brows drew together, partly in concern. “You okay there, Seaborn?”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise at the unusually perceptive question. “Yes, sir, thank you,” he replied, shoving any lingering distress as deep into the back of his mind as he could. “I’m fine.”

Hoynes’ expression told Sam that he was unconvinced at the claim, but he was relieved when Hoynes elected to let the statement stand. The Vice President returned his attention to Josh.

“I just happened to decide to visit those friends when a free block of time came up in my schedule,” Hoynes told him. “Time that is quickly running out, so if you’ll excuse me?”

Hoynes strode past them and deeper into the building, shadowed by his now ever-present Secret Service detail. He had barely vanished out of sight when Josh exploded.

“Can you believe him?” he demanded.

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Josh spun on his heel and stormed out of the Capitol building, unmindful of the looks he was drawing. Sam hurried to catch up.

“Can’t believe he’s trying to pull one over on us!” Josh ranted. “Just here to ‘visit friends’? Yeah, right!”

“So?” Sam asked. “He _was_ a senator here for two terms. And in the House before that. I’d imagine he still has lots of friends on the Hill.”

Josh scowled. “Yeah, the same ‘friends’ he probably visited the _last_ time 286 was on the agenda. He’s here to make sure his ‘friends’ block the bill.”

“Josh, you’re being paranoid,” Sam said. “Why would he do that?”

“You don’t know Hoynes, Sam,” Josh insisted. “ _I_ do; I worked for him, remember? I know how he operates. He might advocate for the betterment of underprivileged populations, but he’s not above resorting to sneaky tactics to get his way.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Josh,” Sam replied. “He can’t be _that_ bad. The president and Leo wouldn’t have asked him to run on the ticket if he was.”

“The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t,” Josh said. “Don’t be so naïve; Hoynes has an angle. You mark my words, Sam; he’s going to do everything in his power to block 286 from reaching the floor unless we keep it the way he wrote it.”

* * *

Josh’s warning continued to ring in Sam’s ears hours after it had been given. He knew Josh was gung-ho in making 286 happen for no other reason than because Leo and President Bartlet asked for it, but the fact that Hoynes was the one who might possibly prevent it from happening seemed to ratchet Josh’s competitive streak to a whole new level. Josh was incredibly good at his job, but Sam worried that his friend would let his zeal get the best of him and that he’d eventually cross a line he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“Sam!”

Sam gave a start, his head snapping over to where Toby and Bartlet were sitting. Both men were watching him with expectant looks on their faces. Sam flushed in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said to Bartlet. “Could you please repeat the question?”

A twinkle in Bartlet’s eyes belied his amusement. “Are we keeping you from something, Sam?”

Toby snorted before Sam could answer. “From running half the West Wing single-handedly, apparently.”

Bartlet frowned lightly at Toby. “I thought that was _my_ job?”

“It is, sir,” Sam stated, tossing an irate glare at Toby. “Toby just thinks he’s being funny.”

Toby was wholly unimpressed by Sam’s ire. “I never claimed I was funny. When have I ever said I was funny?”

“We seem to have meandered away from the point,” Bartlet stated. He passed back a manila folder to Toby. “Everything on the list looks solid to me except the part on welfare. Get some meetings going on that and bring me back some more statistics, then get back to me before moving on that.”

Sam nodded, flipping to the next page in his notepad. “I can get started on that right away.”

“No, _I’ll_ get started on that right away,” Toby corrected. “I’m also taking back the sections on economic reform, unemployment, and health care too.”

“But the interviews-?” Sam protested.

“Are all done,” Toby finished. “We did the last ones this afternoon. CJ’s also gotten the press room settled, so I can take back some of the workload. You did a good job holding down the fort in the meantime. Let’s try to get these tasks a bit more spread out.”

Words failed Sam at Toby’s abrupt praise. He nodded, smiling shyly.

A brief knock on the door heralded Mrs. Landingham’s entrance into the Oval Office. “Excuse me, Mr. President, but Agent Butterfield would like to see you if you have a few moments.”

“And _do_ I have a few moments, Mrs. Landingham?” Bartlet rebutted as he rose to his feet.

“You have a meeting with Mr. McGarry, but Agent Butterfield says he can join you for this,” Mrs. Landingham replied briskly.

Bartlet nodded as Mrs. Landingham retreated back to the outer office. “Well, there you have it. Good work Toby, Sam; I’ll see you two later.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, Mr. President.”

Bartlet waved them out of the Oval Office and moved to greet Ron Butterfield as the agent entered carrying a thick blue folder in one hand. “Ron, good to see you.”

“You too, Mr. President.” Butterfield accepted the handshake. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

Bartlet gestured for Butterfield to take a seat on the couch, then claimed his usual chair. “My wife only gave me three rules when I became the president. Rule number two was to always do whatever the Secret Service tells me to do.”

Butterfield let out a huff of laughter. “Well, I appreciate that. If I may ask, sir; what’s rule number one?”

Bartlet grinned. “Always do whatever _she_ tells me to do.”

Butterfield chuckled with Bartlet as Leo knocked and entered the room from his own office next door.

“I’m sorry, Mr. President,” Leo said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, Leo,” Bartlet replied, waving him over. “Ron here says he has something important to tell us.”

Butterfield set his folder on the coffee table between the three of them as Leo claimed a seat on the couch opposite him. “Mr. President, a situation has come up that you need to be made aware of.”

“Is there a threat to the president?” Leo asked, concerned.

“Nothing like that,” Butterfield assured them. “As you know, the Secret Service runs extensive background checks on the president, vice president, their immediate family members, and all staff as soon as the election closes in November. We start with immediate background checks, but then we work with the FBI to dig deeper. During the course of this process, an anomaly popped up in Mr. Seaborn’s file.”

“ _Sam_ ’s file?” Bartlet echoed, incredulous. “Are you sure? I mean, I can see _Toby_ ’s file having anomalies. Maybe even CJ or Josh. But _Sam_?”

Butterfield nodded. “It’s not something that would have been picked up in a standard search, but we’re a bit more thorough than most.”

“Does this have anything to do with why the Secret Service has been following Sam around the last several weeks?” Leo asked.

Bartlet and Butterfield turned to stare at him in surprise.

Leo didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “Last time I checked, the Secret Service didn’t set up camp in the communications bullpen. And I happened to notice that a couple agents always seemed to be wherever Sam was, even before the transition when we were based out of the EEOB.”

Butterfield accepted the explanation with a nod, but Bartlet was still stunned. “And you never bothered to say anything to anyone?”

“If it was a major concern, then the Secret Service would have pulled Sam’s credentials before now and we would have been told when this had come up,” Leo reasoned. He looked over at Butterfield. “I take it that, whatever it is, you’ve got something concrete now?”

“I do,” Butterfield confirmed. “When our team ran the background on Sam, one of the guys from the FBI found an anomaly in Sam’s birth certificate; an anomaly that resembled a signature of a man who had been convicted in Arizona of identity theft and fraud. This man is notorious on the West Coast for forging birth certificates, social security cards, IDs, and so on.”

“Surely you don’t suspect Sam of plotting an assassination when he was an infant,” Bartlet said, half-joking. “Thirty-five years is a long time to wait for the opportunity.”

“Twenty-six years,” Butterfield corrected.

Bartlet frowned. “What?”

“Sam is twenty-six,” Butterfield told him. “Not thirty-five.”

Bartlet glanced over at Leo in shock. “Did _you_ know that?”

Leo ignored the question. “So your guy thinks that Sam’s birth certificate is forged?” he asked Butterfield. “I can assure you that Sam knows nothing about that.”

“I know,” Butterfield replied. “I pulled a couple of my guys off of security checks to work with an FBI team to follow up on the anomaly. The forger has been serving time, so they went to interview him. He confirmed Sam’s birth certificate as one of his documents, but he didn’t remember who he sold it to. That’s when the team sent a sample of Sam’s DNA to Missing Persons to be tested against their database.”

“What did they find?” Leo asked.

“It came back to a match for a very old cold case,” Butterfield answered. “A very high profile, sensitive one, so they requested for a mitochondrial DNA search to make sure.”

“A mitochondrial DNA search?” Bartlet repeated.

Butterfield nodded. “Mitochondrial DNA can be used to trace DNA matches back through the mother’s line. It doesn’t change when passed on to the child, so the results are more accurate.”

Bartlet began to shake his head. “So Sam’s a missing person? How is that even possible?”

“Who did he come back as a match to?” Leo asked.

Butterfield opened the folder on the coffee table and lifted the top sheet of paper. “Charlie Hoynes,” he answered, holding the paper out.

Leo and Bartlet stared at Butterfield in shock for several long moments.

“You mean to tell me that you think _Sam_ is the missing baby of the current Vice President?” Bartlet demanded.

Leo took the paper Butterfield was holding out and scanned its contents.

“No sir,” Butterfield said. “I don’t _think_ he is. I _know_.” He passed Bartlet the rest of the folder. “The mitochondrial DNA test came back today, and it confirmed the first test. Sam _is_ John and Suzanne Hoynes’ son.”

Bartlet flipped through the folder, looking through the reports and evidence that had been collected.

Leo passed him the paper with the mitochondrial DNA test results and turned back to Butterfield. “How is this even _possible_?”

“As soon as the first DNA test results came back, the team immediately started investigating Sam’s early life,” Butterfield said. “So far they’ve been able to confirm that Chelsea Seaborn _was_ here in DC visiting her brother when Charlie was abducted. They’ve also managed to confirm that she was pregnant when she left California, but that she had Sam with her when she returned. However, at this stage, the team can’t move forward without officially reopening the case. Once that happens, it’s only a matter of time before word gets out.”

“Have you told anyone else yet?” Bartlet asked as he passed the folder to Leo.

“No, sir, not yet,” Butterfield replied.

Leo rubbed his forehead wearily, scanning the reports in the folder. “Oh God.”

“Wait.” Bartlet held up a finger, then pointed at the folder. “That says the first DNA test came back a month ago. You _knew_ that Sam was Charlie a month ago and you haven’t told John?”

“I thought it best to have conclusive evidence before approaching him,” Butterfield said.

“We need to tell him,” Leo stated to the room at large. “Tonight.”

“And Sam,” Bartlet added. “Sam will need to hear it from us, and not from John tracking him down himself.”

“How do you want to do this?” Leo asked.

Bartlet glanced at his watch. “Let’s divide and conquer. It’s almost time for dinner; I’ll have Mrs. Landingham cancel any appointments on my schedule for the rest of the day. You have a better rapport with John; you tell him in your office while I tell Sam in here at the same time. Then we can take them over to the residence for dinner.”

“Foisting the dirty work off onto me?” Leo joked.

“Damn straight,” Bartlet replied. “It’s one of the many perks of my job.”

“Fine, but I want Ron in with me,” Leo said, nodding at Butterfield. “Sam may or may not believe you, but John’s going to demand proof.”

“Deal.” Bartlet leaned over to one side. “Mrs. Landingham!” he shouted.

Mrs. Landingham opened the door and waited patiently with a slight long-suffering look on her face. “You called, sir?”

“Yes,” Bartlet said. “Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day, would you? And have Sam come back for a quick meeting. I also need you to contact the Vice President and have him come to Leo’s office right away.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Landingham backed away, pulling the door shut as she went.

“All right,” Bartlet said, clapping his hands together. “Once John is ready, bring him over here.”

“Sir, I think you’re being a little optimistic about John’s reaction,” Leo warned. “He’s not going to just sit patiently. Once I tell him, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a John-shaped hole in the wall between us.”

“It’ll be fine, Leo,” Bartlet said, standing. Leo and Butterfield rose as well. “I’m going to give Abbey a quick call to let her know to expect guests for dinner.”

Leo gestured for Butterfield to follow as he moved back towards his office. By the time Bartlet hung up the phone, Mrs. Landingham was announcing Sam’s arrival.

Sam stood in the doorway, puzzled at having been asked to return to the Oval Office so soon. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Sam, yes, come in,” Bartlet greeted. “Close the door behind you and have a seat.”

Sam obeyed, joining the president in the sitting area. He perched on the edge of the couch cushion, his nerves preventing him from relaxing. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“Everything is fine, Sam,” Bartlet assured him gently. “However, I just received some news that you need to be brought in on.”

* * *

Leo led Butterfield into his office and gestured for him to take a seat. “I hope you’re ready for this. Charlie is an understandably touchy subject with John. He tends to shut people down and go on the offense anytime someone says Charlie’s name.”

“My guys have been very thorough throughout this whole investigation,” Butterfield stated. “If you’re worried about the vice president not believing me-.”

“Sometimes it’s not about the facts,” Leo stated. “Once the cat’s out of the bag, I doubt very much that John will be concerned with logic and reason.”

“What father would be?” Butterfield asked as a knock sounded on the door.

John Hoynes entered, his steely blue gaze immediately searching out Leo. “Leo. What’s so important that the president had to summon me to your office? I swear, if this is about 286-.”

Leo held out his hands in a placating manner. “It’s not about 286, John. But it _is_ important. Have a seat.”

Hoynes finally noticed Butterfield, who had stood upon his entrance. Confusion swept across his face. “What’s going on, Leo?” Alarm began to rise. “Oh God . . . Suzanne? The boys?”

“Your family is fine, Mr. Vice President,” Butterfield said calmly and firmly.

Leo lightly took Hoynes’ elbow and led him to the nearest chair, encouraging him to sit. “John, Agent Butterfield was updating the president and me on his team’s progress with the staff’s background checks. As it turned out, his team found something.”

“That’s it?” Hoynes asked. “You got me all worked up over some-.”

“John.” Leo’s tone was low and gentle. “They found Charlie.”

Hoynes jerked backwards as if punched. His head swiveled back and forth between Leo and Butterfield, his expression darkening. “That’s not funny, Leo.”

“That’s because I’m not joking, John.” Leo held a hand out to Butterfield, who pressed the folder into it. Leo held the folder out to Hoynes. “They found your son.”

Hoynes stared mutely at the folder for a moment. He lifted a hand towards it but stopped, his gaze moving to watch the tremors taking it over. He heaved a deep breath and took the folder, but set it, unopened, on his lap. “Are you sure?”

Butterfield took a step closer. “Yes, Mr. Vice President. Both the DNA and mitochondrial DNA tests confirm it. We don’t have all of the details yet, but we _do_ know without a doubt that it’s Charlie.”

Hoynes pressed a hand against his mouth, his watery eyes locked on a distant memory. “It’s been almost twenty-seven years . . . he’d be a grown man by now . . .”

The sudden stiffening of his body set both Leo and Butterfield on alert. Hoynes’ gaze darted to Leo.

“Wait,” he said. “You said they found him doing staff background checks. He works _here_? With _us_?”

Butterfield nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who?” Hoynes demanded. “Who is it?”

“It’s Sam Seaborn, John,” Leo answered.

Hoynes grew very still, clearly doing his best to recall his every interaction with the young speechwriter. Abruptly, he leapt to his feet and began to pace the length of the office.

Leo and Butterfield watched patiently as Hoynes paced, startling slightly when he suddenly spun around to face Butterfield. “What have you found out about his abduction? Who took him? Did his kidnappers raise him?”

“Sir, my team is still investigating those details,” Butterfield answered. “We plan to officially reopen the case soon. Everything we know so far is in that folder.”

Hoynes followed Butterfield’s gaze to the blue folder gripped tightly in his right hand. Hoynes gave a start of surprise as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Lifting it, he flipped it open and began scanning each page hungrily.

“Near as we can figure, Chelsea Seaborn is likely involved,” Butterfield continued. “We haven’t questioned her just yet; we didn’t want to warn anyone and give them time to skip out of the country. As soon as we’re done here, I’m authorizing my team to officially, but quietly, reopen the case and pick up the Seaborns for questioning.”

Hoynes sank back into his chair, his eyes glued onto a copy of Sam’s staff photo in the file. “Once word gets out . . . I need to call Suzanne . . . and the boys . . .” His head snapped up. “Wait! He’s going to need a protection detail!”

Butterfield nodded. “As soon as the first DNA test results came back over a month ago, I put a team on him but kept it quiet. They were formally assigned this afternoon as soon as the mitochondrial DNA results came back.”

Hoynes nodded absently, his eyes falling back onto Sam’s smiling face in the photograph. Fingers lightly traced the image. “Does he think he’s adopted? Does he even know the truth?”

“Jed’s next door with him,” Leo said. “He’s breaking the news to Sam right now.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Leo wished he could call them back. Hoynes had frozen at the information, his gaze moving to Leo.

“Right now?” he said. “In the Oval Office? My son’s next door right this minute?”

“John, wait-,” Leo tried.

Hoynes jumped to his feet, the folder slipping from his hands as he rushed towards the connecting door.

Leo darted into his path. “John, _wait_. _Think_ about it; if Sam doesn’t know, then he just got some very shocking news. He doesn’t need you storming in there and scaring him.”

The anger blazing in Hoynes’ eyes was in sharp contrast to the need on his face. “My son is in there, Leo!” he cried, waving his arm at the door. “You can’t ask me to wait! Not after all this time!”

“Just for a few more minutes,” Leo promised.

Hoynes pushed past Leo, Leo’s protests now falling on deaf ears. Leo swore under his breath and followed after him.

Sam was sitting on the sofa, folded over with his hands clutching at his hair. Bartlet had moved to sit beside him on the sofa and had placed a comforting hand on Sam’s back. Upon Hoynes’ abrupt entrance, Sam had looked up and immediately jumped to his feet, stumbling a few steps back. His eyes were wide with disbelief, shock, and the faintest touch of fear.

Hoynes himself had frozen in place at his first real glimpse of his son. The two stared in silence at each other, neither one sure of what to say.

From the couch, Bartlet raised his eyebrows at Leo, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. Behind Leo, Butterfield quietly slipped into the room, having recovered the papers from the folder Hoynes had discarded in his zeal to see Sam.

Hoynes finally moved, taking a small step towards Sam. “You have your mother’s eyes,” he said breathlessly, unable to stop drinking in the sight of his son. “I don’t know how I missed that.”

Sam flinched at the comparison. He glanced nervously at Bartlet, then back to Hoynes. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure I even believe this. It’s too incredible . . . _impossible_ . . .”

Hoynes took another step. “ _Charlie_ -.”

Sam stepped back, one hand lifting as if to stop Hoynes. “ _No_ ,” he said adamantly. “No, I . . . I know you think I’m him, but I _can’t_ be. I’m _Sam_.”

Bartlet slowly rose to his feet. “Sam.”

Leo recognized the stubborn set to Sam’s jaw and idly wondered how he’d also missed the signs, as he’d seen a similar look on Hoynes’ face before. It wasn’t there now, however; instead leo saw a look of such helplessness that prompted Leo to try and do _something_.

“Why don’t we all just have a seat and hear the full story before deciding anything, huh?” he suggested.

Bartlet nodded. “I think that’s an excellent idea.

All eyes turned to Sam, waiting to see what he would decide. After meeting each gaze in turn, he nodded mutely.

Bartlet gently took Sam’s arm and guided him back to the sofa. Hoynes immediately claimed a spot beside him, but was careful not to touch him. Bartlet sat on Sam’s other side, leaving the opposite sofa for Leo and Butterfield. 

“Good,” Leo said. “Okay. Sam; what have you heard about Charlie Hoynes?”

Sam locked his gaze on Leo, seemingly unable to even look at Hoynes. Hoynes, in contrast, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Sam.

“I know he was kidnapped from DC when he was a few weeks old,” Sam replied. “I remember hearing about one or two people claiming to be him, but that DNA ruled them out.”

Hoynes winced at his own memories of those imposters, then scowled. “Opportunists,” he spat.

Sam found the courage to turn to him. “How can you be so sure I’m him, though? DNA tests aren’t always conclusive. There can be false matches, or similar characteristics . . . mistakes have been known to happen in labs.”

Butterfield cleared his throat. “Sam, you _are_ correct. There _can_ be false positives and things like that. That’s why my team ran two tests before we brought it to you. Do you know what a mitochondrial DNA test is?”

Sam frowned as he tried to access that memory. “Isn’t that . . . doesn’t that have to do with the mother?”

“That’s right,” Butterfield said. “Mitochondrial DNA doesn’t change as much as the rest of your DNA when it’s passed down to you. It also makes for a more precise matching in these cases.” He opened the folder and passed the DNA test results across to Sam. “The mitochondrial DNA test came back a 99.98% match to Suzanne Hoynes. According to this test, you _are_ Charlie Hoynes.”

Sam stared down at the results in his hands, silently struggling in the face of evidence.

Bartlet looked over Sam’s bent head at Hoynes. “John,” he said quietly. “Maybe you could fill in the blanks of what happened for Sam?”

Sam turned his head to Hoynes at the suggestion. Meeting the eyes of his long-lost son, Hoynes nodded and took a deep breath as he braced himself to revisit one of the worst moments in his life.

“I was early in my first term to Congress,” he began. “Suzanne was still on maternity leave from work, and the boys were going to be on spring break, so we decided to have them come up and stay with me. We were going to do the usual tourist thing; Suzanne loved visiting DC and she wanted to share it with our boys.”

The room had grown very still as Hoynes spoke. No one wanted to break the spell, and the fathers in the room grieved for the pain in Hoynes’ voice.

“It was a Wednesday,” Hoynes continued. “Suzanne wanted to visit the National Mall. Jamie wanted to see the planes at the Air and Space Museum, and Jake was so excited to see the dinosaurs at the Natural History museum. I had a roll call that morning; Suzanne and I decided she would take the boys to the History museum when it opened, then we would meet up in the food court at the Air and Space museum for lunch.”

Sam found it impossible to look away as Hoynes revealed the events surrounding his son’s abduction. He couldn’t quite reconcile the idea that Hoynes was describing something that had happened to _him_ , too, but he also couldn’t help the pang of sympathy in his chest.

“They were on their way to the Air and Space museum,” Hoynes said. “There were a lot of tourists around . . . it got crowded quickly. Someone knocked into Jamie and he fell and started to cry. He was only three at the time . . . Suzanne stopped to help him up. Just for a minute. When she turned back, Charlie was missing from the stroller.”

Hoynes wiped a hand down his face. No one commented on the tears glittering in his eyes.

“No one saw anything,” he concluded. “There were just too many people. The cops, the FBI . . . the private investigators we hired . . . there were no leads. It was as if he just vanished off of the face of the Earth.”

Butterfield’s soft tone picked up the thread of the story. “Based on what we’ve found so far, we think Chelsea Seaborn was pretending to be pregnant- why, we don’t know. She likely was nearing the end of her charade and was growing desperate. She could have seen her opportunity with Charlie and took the chance. Hopefully, once my team picks her and her husband up, they’ll learn more.”

Sam gave Butterfield a startled look. “Wait; you’re _arresting_ them?”

“Sam, they _kidnapped_ you,” Leo said bluntly.

“You don’t know that for sure!” Sam protested. “They could have adopted me from the real kidnappers and didn’t even know!”

“Which is why,” Butterfield declared firmly before an argument could break out, “they’re being picked up for _questioning_. We aren’t making any arrests until we have evidence of their involvement.”

“I want to talk to them,” Sam stated.

Hoynes stiffened. “Over my dead body.”

Sam turned to him, a mulish glint in his eyes. “Sir-.”

“No!” An identical look matched Sam’s. “If they _are_ responsible for taking you, there is _no way_ I’m giving them the chance to do it again! I don’t want you _anywhere_ near them!”

“They’re my parents!” Sam argued.

“ _They_ are _not_ your parents!” Hoynes countered hotly.

Sam flinched.

“All right,” Bartlet intervened, a hand lifted as if to ward off the brewing storm. “There’s no use arguing over this now before the Secret Service has even had a chance to talk to them. Besides, right now there are more urgent matters to deal with.”

“More urgent than dealing with the people who kidnapped my son?” Hoynes challenged. “What could possibly be more important than _that_?”

Bartlet fixed him with a stern look. “Telling your wife that you’ve found your missing child. And your other sons.”

Just like that, the fire was doused in Hoynes’ temper. His mouth snapped shut in surprise. Beside him, Sam paled in realization that he had other family members to deal with.

Bartlet turned to Butterfield. “Ron, why don’t you go ahead and get the ball rolling on the investigation?” he said. “Come and join us in the Residence when you’re done.”

Butterfield nodded in agreement. He stood and slipped quietly out of the room.

“Leo, are you joining us?” Bartlet asked.

Leo stood as well, shaking his head. “Thank you, but I have a couple more things I need to take care of before getting home to Jenny. Excuse me.”

Bartlet bid him farewell, turning to Hoynes and Sam next. “We’re going to move this conversation over to the Residence for a little more privacy. I’ve already told Abbey to expect us for dinner. John; use the phone on my desk to call Suzanne. Have her come and join us.”

As Hoynes moved to do just that, Bartlet gave Sam a considering look. “Are you okay?”

Sam shrugged helplessly and shook his head. “I . . . I have no idea . . .”

Bartlet pressed a hand to Sam’s shoulder, steadily meeting the younger man’s eyes. “It’s okay if you’re not; on one expects you to be. Hell, I know _I_ wouldn’t be. There are some big changes in store for you, and there’s just no getting around that. But we’re all here for you, every step of the way. You won’t have to do this alone.”

Sam nodded, eyes shimmering, as Hoynes hung up the phone and rejoined them.

“Suzanne is on her way,” he announced. “The Secret Service is bringing her; I had to convince her to wait for them.” He shook his head. “She can’t believe it . . .”

Bartlet stood, bringing Sam to his feet. “Well then. Let’s get over to the Residence before she beats us there.”

He turned to leave, Sam right behind him, when Hoynes’ quiet call stalled them.

“Wait . . .”

Questioning looks focused on the vice president.

Hoynes shifted from one foot to the other, his expression lost. He took a tentative step forward.

“This has all happened so fast,” he stated. “When Suzanne gets here . . . it’s going to go faster, and I . . . I just . . . I wanted to . . .”

Something in Hoynes’ face clicked in Bartlet, and he smiled in understanding. He nodded encouragingly at him.

Sam was completely at a loss. “Wanted to what?”

After a brief hesitation, Hoynes moved closer. Lifting his arms, he slowly, carefully, drew Sam to him in a hug.

Sam stiffened in surprise, clearly not expecting the move. He stood awkwardly for a moment, then slowly moved to wrap his own arms around Hoynes.

Hoynes closed his eyes, tightening his hold and soaking in the feeling of holding his youngest child for the first time in nearly three decades.

* * *

The West Sitting Hall on the second floor of the White House was unexpectedly cozy despite its opulence. The sofa that Bartlet had directed Sam to was in front of a large window whose curtains were presently drawn against the darkening sky. The sofa was flanked by a pair of armchairs, all positioned around a coffee table. More coffee tables and chairs sat nearby, all waiting patiently for occupants. The room itself held a sense of history, all of which went right over Sam’s head as his mind continued to churn with his recent revelations.

Hoynes was perched on the armchair nearest Sam, but hadn’t spoken much since being brought to the room. Bartlet had taken Abbey into the kitchen, both to fill her in and to give the reunited father and son some privacy, but neither could find the right words to say.

A slight commotion from the stairs drew their attention. New Secret Service agents barely had time to enter before a woman with blond hair and wearing a slightly disheveled dress suit all but sprinted into the room. “John?”

Hoynes stood immediately, intercepting the woman as she made a beeline for them. “Suzanne,” he greeted, wrapping an arm around her.

The woman, Suzanne, pressed a hand to Hoynes’ chest, her eyes wide and hopeful as they sought his. “Charlie?” she asked. “Is it really him?”

Hoynes drew her into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “DNA confirmed it; he’s our boy.”

Sam slowly stood as Hoynes released Suzanne, guiding her to the chairs. Hoynes gestured to Sam. “You actually met at the Inauguration Ball. Sam Seaborn.”

Suzanne walked up to Sam, shaking hands reaching up to cradle his face as her eyes took in every detail. “Charlie?”

“Sam,” Sam suddenly blurted out. He winced. “I . . . sorry . . .”

“No, no,” Suzanne soothed. “It’s okay. _Sam_. I just . . . I’m so glad we finally found you.”

She pulled Sam into a fierce hug. Sam had to lean down awkwardly, and he looked helplessly over Suzanne’s shoulder at Hoynes. To Sam’s shock, tears had slipped free and left trails down Hoynes’ cheeks. Rather than the rescue Sam had been looking for, Hoynes stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his wife and son.

Sam endured the hug for as long as he could, then gently untangled himself.

Suzanne kept one hand wrapped around his arm as though afraid he would vanish from her sight should she let go. “I have so many questions. Where have you been all this time? Are you all right? Did you know about us? Who took care of you?”

Hoynes chuckled, wiping away the evidence of tears from his face. “Suz, take it easy on the boy. He only found out himself tonight. Maybe start with one question at a time?”

Suzanne smiled sheepishly. “Of course. Sorry.”

Hoynes squeezed her shoulder. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”

Sam sat back down on the sofa, Suzanne beside him. Her hand slipped down his arm to grip Sam’s hand. Hoynes perched on the arm of the sofa beside Suzanne, keeping an arm around her.

“Where have you been?” Suzanne asked again, keen to learn about her youngest son.

“Uh, California, mostly,” Sam replied. “I went to college at Princeton, then Duke. Law.”

Suzanne’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Duke Law? John’s a lawyer too, did you know? Did you ever practice?”

“In New York City,” Sam answered. “I started at Dewey-Ballantine, then moved over to Gage Whitney before Josh came and recruited me for President Bartlet’s campaign.”

Pride appeared on Hoynes’ face. “Those are both very good firms. And you worked there right out of law school? You must be very good.”

Pink spots appeared high on Sam’s cheeks.

“And now you’re President Bartlet’s Deputy Communications Director, if I remember correctly?” Suzanne said. “I’ve heard that you’re a brilliant speechwriter.”

The pink spots transformed into a red flush. “That’s Toby Ziegler,” he replied modestly. “I’m very lucky to be able to learn from him.”

Bartlet chose that moment to enter the room, carrying two glasses of wine. Behind him was Abbey, bearing a silver tray with three more glasses.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that Sam is _also_ very humble about his own accomplishments,” Bartlet announced.

Sam jumped to his feet upon hearing Barlet, his hand still attached to Suzanne. Bartlet waved Sam back down and handed him one of the glasses he carried. “Let’s not stand on ceremony tonight.”

Abbey held out the tray as Hoynes and Suzanne each accepted a glass with thanks, then took the remaining glass for herself. Setting the tray on the coffee table, she claimed the armchair next to Hoynes. “I hope you don’t mind meeting here; Jed can be a bit of a meddler, but meeting on neutral ground was a good idea.”

“I do have those every so often,” Bartlet quipped. “Anyway, the chef will bring the food up soon, but I thought it might be good to talk over drinks first. I’m sure everyone has lots of questions.”

“And yes,” Abbey directed at Suzanne as Bartlet sat down. “Sam _is_ a brilliant speechwriter. We’ve had many in past campaigns and no one has been able to match Jed’s idealism quite like Sam.”

Sam’s blush returned in full force at the praise.

Suzanne smiled, charmed at Sam’s embarrassment. A matching grin on Hoynes’ face revealed the same. Taking pity on the young man, Suzanne squeezed Sam’s hand.

“So why did you decide to go from being a lawyer to being a political aide?” she asked.

Sam latched onto the question with relief.

The ensuing interrogation wasn’t as bad as Sam had feared. Several questions wandered into shaky territory, but Sam managed to deflect them without anyone being the wiser. WIth each passing moment, he relaxed further. It was easy to push the reality of his situation out of his mind and convince himself that he was simply at another dinner party or informal gathering of coworkers.

About half an hour passed in pleasant discussion when a knock heralded Ron Butterfield’s arrival. The lanky man strode purposefully towards them.

“Ron!” Bartlet greeted jovially, waving at him to join them. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you, Mr. President,” Butterfield replied, nodding a greeting to the group.

“So?” Bartlet asked. “How did it go?”

“I dispatched a team from the local FBI office to collect the Seaborns,” Butterfield told them. “They found Chelsea at her residence and are transporting her back to their office for questioning. Norman, on the other hand, is out of the country.”

“He is?” Sam asked, surprised.

Butterfield lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t know?”

Sam shook his head. “We don’t really talk all that much,” he admitted. “He’s always away on business trips, though. Didn’t my mom know where he was?”

Suzanne flinched at the address. Hoynes hugged her, rubbing a hand up and down her arm soothingly.

A stricken look appeared on Sam’s face. “I-I mean . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t . . .”

Hoynes shook his head as Suzanne squeezed his hand in reassurance. “It’s all right,” she crooned.

“Chelsea told the agents that Norman was in Monaco,” Butterfield answered Sam’s question. “We’re working on confirming that, then we’ll look at getting him back stateside. Sam, I need to ask you _not_ to contact _either_ of them without the go ahead by Secret Service. While we currently have Chelsea in custody, we don’t want to spook Norman into fleeing to a non-extradition country.”

Sam’s temper flared at the warning. “You’re all acting as if he’s guilty! You don’t have any proof that he was involved in all of this!”

Hoynes’ expression hardened. “We don’t have any proof that he’s innocent of wrongdoing, either.”

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing this country was founded on the ideals of _innocent_ until _proven guilty_ ,” Sam snarked. “Last time I checked, the burden fell on the _state_ to prove _guilt_ , not on the _accused_ to prove _innocence_!”

“Okay,” Abbey cut in before Hoynes could retort. “Listen; _both_ of you are too close to this to be objective. Sam; whether or not Norman is involved, he likely has information you need in order to figure out what happened when you were a baby. John; you _know_ Sam is right that there’s no evidence of Norman’s involvement just yet. Let’s not let determination for justice convict a potentially innocent man.”

Neither man was happy, but they conceded the argument in the face of Abbey’s logic.

“We won’t issue arrest warrants until we have definitive proof,” Butterfield promised Sam. “But you need to bear in mind that Norman might reveal some truths that you won’t like. You need to be prepared for that eventuality.”

Sam nodded wordlessly.

Bartlet cleared his throat. “In the meantime, you all need to decide how to handle sharing this news with everyone.”

Sam gave a start. “What?”

Puzzled glances were traded. “Sam, your abduction was one of the most notable cases in recent memory,” Butterfield told him slowly. “Once the press gets wind of us reopening it, they’ll want to know why. We’re expecting, and preparing for, a huge media circus.”

“Why do we even have to tell anyone?” Sam pressed. “It’s no one else’s business.”

Hoynes glanced over at Bartlet, who shook his head in confusion.

“It’s not a matter of _us_ telling anyone,” Butterfield said. “Once word gets out, there’ll be no stopping it. If we want to stay ahead of the press, we’ll need to get out in front of it.”

“Which means starting with telling CJ,” Bartlet added, leaning forward in his chair.

“But we don’t need to do that _right now_ , do we?” A pleading look with panic teasing the edges turned to each person in turn. “We can just keep it to ourselves for now?”

“If that’s what you want,” Suzanne said.

“Sam?” Abbey said gently. “We can hold the press off a while longer, but don’t you want to tell your friends about this?”

Sam turned to her, struggling to put the swirling emotions into some semblance of understanding. “I . . . it’s just . . . what if it’s all some big mistake? I can’t . . .”

Suzanne nearly dropped her wine glass in her haste to set it aside. She gripped Sam’s hand in both of hers as Hoynes reached around his wife to grasp Sam’s shoulder firmly.

“ _Sam_ ,” Hoynes said firmly. “This isn’t a mistake. I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s real. The proof is in that DNA test. _You’re our son_.”

Sam was saved from responding as several stewards arrived bearing covered trays. Abbey stood, greeting them with a smile and directing them to the kitchen. Once they were on their way, she turned back to Sam.

“Sam, why don’t you come with me and help get dinner situated?” she suggested.

“Great idea,” Bartlet praised as Sam rose to his feet and gently tugged his hand free of Suzanne. “While you do that, Ron can talk to us about your security detail arrangements.”

Sam froze at that. “What?”

Bartlet tilted his head, unsure if Sam was serious. “You Secret Service detail?”

Sam swiveled around to look between Hoynes and Suzanne, Bartlet, and Butterfield. “I don’t . . . I really don’t think a Secret Service detail is necessary,” he stated. “I mean, if no one outside this room knows I’m . . . knows who I am.”

“For now,” Butterfield pointed out. “We can’t guarantee that the information won’t be released before we decide, though.”

“But-,” Sam protested.

“Sam, the only way for you to waive your protection detail is if the president or the vice president order it,” Butterfield stated bluntly.

Sam’s eyes shifted reflexively to Hoynes, whose expression was immovable. “There is no force on God’s green Earth that will convince me,” he stated sternly.

Suzanne nudged him. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed,” she told him under her breath.

Sam turned to Bartlet. Bartlet, at least, appeared amused by the situation.

“I was actually going to suggest the panic button be included,” he said around a grin. “Zoey carries on, and I gotta say, it helps take a load off of _my_ mind.”

Sam winced, then turned back to Hoynes. “I _really_ don’t think it’s necessary,” he tried again.

Hoynes softened ever-so-softly at the plaintive tone, but his newly-aroused protective instincts held resolute. “Sam, we’re not trying to be unreasonable here. We _know_ that there’s an added layer of safety in anonymity. But think of it this way: you just spent the last four or five weeks being followed by a team of agents, and your reaction just now tells me you haven’t even noticed them. The detail stays.”

Sam spun around in shock, looking at Butterfield. “I- _what_?”

Butterfield nodded.

A light tug on his hand drew Sam’s attention to Suzanne, her deep blue eyes studying him intently.

“Ch- _Sam_ ,” she said. “You’re having your whole world completely turned on its head tonight. It’s natural to feel resistance to these changes. We understand that. We just want _you_ to understand that we lost you thirty years ago, and it’s been hell. Now we have you back, and it’s going to take some time before we stop being terrified about something happening to you. _Please_. If for no other reason than to give us peace of mind, _please_ let us protect you.”

Sam’s tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He gave a jerky nod.

“You won’t see any disruptions to your schedule,” Butterfield told him. “They’ve been in place since before you moved into the White House, and they know your routines already. The head of your detail is right outside; would you like to meet him now?”

“Yes,” Hoynes answered for Sam.

Butterfield lifted his cuff to his mouth. “Agent Price.”

Within moments, they were joined by another suit-clad agent. He looked to be only a few years older than Sam with sandy-blond hair and brown eyes that swept the room instinctively as he approached them. Sam thought he looked familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn’t say from where.

Hoynes’ eyes lifted up and down the man’s nearly six-and-a-half foot muscular frame and commanding presence, then flickered over to Sam.

“You didn’t notice _him_ following you around?” he asked pointedly.

Sam winced in embarrassment.

Hoynes turned back to the man. “Agent . . . Price? What’s your background?”

The agent stood at attention, meeting Hoynes’ scrutiny effortlessly. “My name is Elliot Price, Mr. Vice President. I was a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy for a few years, and served as a Navy Seal. I transferred over to the Secret Service after leaving the Navy and have served on protection details for the last six years.”

“Agent Price is one of our top agents,” Butterfield added. “He’s well-versed in hand-to-hand and is skilled at blending in with a crowd.”

“Clearly,” Hoynes stated.

Sam bristled. “This is ridiculous!” he cried. “I’m nobody important! Who would want to come after _me_?”

Elliot fixed an unyielding gaze on Sam. “It’s not always about logical consequences,” he stated. “THere are a lot of crazies out there that act for no other reason than the sun came up that day. You were taken once already from your family; my job is to make sure that something like that doesn’t happen again.”

Sam’s mouth clicked shut.

Hoynes grinned in satisfaction. “I like him.”

Sam scowled at him.

“Sam.”

Abbey beckoned for him to follow her. Sam wordlessly obeyed, walking into the kitchen where the stewards waited patiently.

“Thank you all,” Abbey told the staff. “We’ll handle it from here. Have a good night.”

Sam stood awkwardly beside the stove while Abbey bustled about the departing staff, pulling out serving spoons and dishes. She passed a bowl to Sam.

“Here, put the potatoes in that,” she directed.

Sam moved to the nearest tray, lifting the cloche and finding green beans. Covering them to preserve the heat, he found the potatoes under the next dome and began scooping mashed potatoes into the bowl.

The two worked in comfortable silence for several minutes, moving food from the kitchen to the adjoining dining room. Sam had just allowed himself to calm down when Abbey finally spoke.

“How are you doing?” she asked as she set the final dish on the dining table.

Sam braced his hands on the back of a chair, staring down at the spread of food. “Honestly?”

“Always preferred that to lies,” Abbey replied easily.

The unexpected comment shook a startled laugh out of Sam. The tension bled out of his shoulders.

Abbey gave him a pleased smile. “For what it’s worth, you’re handling everything better than I would have. I’d probably be shouting the walls down and breaking dishes.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t count me out yet,” he said. “It still doesn’t feel real, like it’s all happening to someone else.”

Abbey nodded. “If you ever feel you need to talk, you can always come to me, or to Jed. I’m sure John and Suzanne would be more than happy to be a sounding board for you, too, but I can see where that might feel awkward.”

Sam nodded in agreement.

“Which is _also_ why it might be worth it to confide in your friends,” Abbey continued.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “How exactly do you break news like _this_?” he asked. “Oh, hey, by the way; it turns out that the parents I _thought_ I had might have actually kidnapped me as a baby. What’s the punchline? The vice president is my real father.”

“I didn’t say it would be _easy_ ,” Abbey said. “But you might appreciate having someone objective to confide in. Just think about it.”

Sam nodded again.

Abbey moved closer to him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “They’re good people, John and Suzanne,” she stated. “I know John and Jed were rivals for a while, and that Josh worked for John, but that was work. John and Suzanne are good parents to their boys.”

Sam looked at her, startled. “I didn’t make the connection . . . I have brothers . . .”

Abbey smiled, squeezing his arm. “You do.”

Something vulnerable crossed Sam’s face. “I don’t know how to be a brother,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to be Charlie.”

“Oh, Sam.” Abbey drew the young man into a warm hug. “You don’t have to be anything other than ‘Sam’. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s pretty impressive.”

Sam let out a laugh.

Abbey pulled back, smiling brightly up at him. “All right; let’s call everyone in to eat before the food gets cold.”

* * *

Sam crossed his arms and scowled as four Secret Service agents, led by Elliot Price, systematically checked his apartment for hidden dangers.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked. “Do you really think it’s possible that someone overheard our conversation at the White House and decided to hide in my bedroom closet with a knife?”

“Maybe not the _bedroom_ closet,” Elliot retorted.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You guys never cleared my apartment _before_.”

“That you knew of,” Elliot corrected.

Ire flashed in Sam’s eyes.

Elliot noticed and gestured to one of the other agents to take over. He walked over to Sam. “Mr. Hoynes-.”

“No.” Sam held up a hand as if to block the name. “Just . . . Just Sam.”

Elliot nodded. “Okay. Sam. We didn’t start off on the right foot.” He held out a hand. “Elliot.”

Sam stared at him for a moment, wondering if Elliot was being serious. Coming to some sort of conclusion, he grasped the outstretched hand and shook it.

Elliot offered Sam a light smile and withdrew. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but my guys and I have a job to do. We’ll be out of your hair in no time, I promise.”

Sure enough, one of the agents called ‘all clear’ from the back of the apartment. Sam watched as they headed out, nodding respectfully at him as they passed.

“You’re all set,” Elliot told him. “If you need anything, I’m in the apartment right across the hall.”

Sam gave a start. “What?”

“The Secret Service leased it,” Elliot explained. “Mostly it’ll be me, but a few other agents will cycle through too.” He followed his team into the hall. “Have a good night.”

Sam mumbled a response and shut the door firmly. Turning, he sagged heavily against it, allowing the day’s events to wash over him.

At least dinner had gone smoothly. Not for the first time, Sam sent up a prayer of thanks for Abbey Bartlet. She seemed to have developed a sixth sense about him and had expertly maneuvered their conversations to safer topics every time he grew uncomfortable.

At the end of the night, however, it had taken her _and_ Bartlet’s support as well as the Secret Service’s assurances to let Sam return to his apartment alone. Even Sam wasn’t unaffected by Suzanne’s crushing hug farewell, or by the poorly concealed fear on Hoynes’ face of letting Sam out of his sight.

Sighing wearily, Sam pushed himself off of the door and moved deeper into his apartment, shedding his coat and suit jacket as he went. He loosened his tie as he checked his answering machine for messages, but paused as his eyes slipped over to his phone.

Butterfield’s warning not to contact his parents rang in his ears, and the logical part of Sam’s mind understood the reason behind it. The more vulnerable, emotional part, however, was not so easily convinced.

Sam grabbed his phone and dialed his parents’ home number, reveling in the rush of defiance. Receiving no answer, he tried his mother’s cell number, then his father’s. None of his calls went through.

He glanced at his watch as he contemplated calling his father’s office at the firm he worked in. It was after hours even on the West Coast, but just barely. He had a chance of reaching _someone_ if he called now.

Logic prevailed in his ruminations. Butterfield had said his dad was overseas; even if he reached another lawyer at the firm, it was his dad he wanted to talk to anyway.

Sam slowly sank onto the couch as he set the phone aside. His head leaned back as he all-but melted into the cushions. There, in the silence of his apartment, the revelation of his true parentage came crashing down on him.

Kidnapped?

His eyes slide shut at the thought. How was it possible to not even know he’d been kidnapped? He’d seen pictures of his mother, pregnant with him. His grandmother had told stories of horrible morning sickness, of ridiculous cravings his mother had sent his father out to find at two in the morning. Of regret for not being there for the birth, his mother having to deliver without anyone there . . .

Sam’s eyes snapped open, unable to continue that line of thought. His mind wandered over to Hoynes, wondering what it might have been like to grow up with Hoynes as his father . . . with _brothers_ . . .

Distant memories floated to the surface. Reading a book alone in the yard faded into three little boys chasing each other around . . . holiday dinners with just him and his mom shifted into a table overflowing with relatives . . . his graduations now accompanied by a beaming Hoynes, the pride on his face identical to the look Sam had seen earlier that evening . . .

Sam tore himself out of his thoughts, dismissing them almost violently. It didn’t serve any purpose to wander down the path of ‘might-have-been’, and besides; he was being disloyal to the family that _did_ raise him. He’d had a good childhood; better than most given the opportunities he’d had available to him. So what if he’d been a little lonely?

Sam stood, running a hand through his hair. He glanced around the room, then decided to turn in for the night. Maybe when he awoke the next morning, everything would just be some bizarre dream and it would all go back to the way it was.

* * *

end chapter 2


	3. Chapter Three

_Thursday, January 29_

Sam’s wishful thinking managed to carry him through his usual morning routine as he got ready for work. He did try to call home again, telling himself he was just checking in with his parents, but there was still no answer.

By the time Sam had unlocked his car and slid into the driver’s seat, he had managed to convince himself that he’d imagined the previous night’s events. He had just closed the door when his passenger door was pulled open and Elliot abruptly slid into the car beside him, startling him.

“The hell?” Sam swore.

Elliot shook his head at Sam. “We need to work on your situational awareness. I was right behind you the whole time.”

Sam glared at him. “I don’t think situational awareness works on people _sneaking up_ on you.”

“Kinda the whole point of situational awareness is that _no one_ sneaks up on you,” Elliot retorted. He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to Sam. “Here.”

Sam stared at a palm-sized black box in Elliot’s hand. He made no move to take it. “What is it?”

“Your panic button,” Elliot replied.

Sam shook his head, recoiling. “I don’t need that.”

Elliot snorted and pushed the device into Sam’s hands. “Your dad disagrees, and he’s a lot scarier than you are.”

Sam frowned at the panic button, then looked up at Elliot. “Didn’t you say you were a Navy SEAL? And you’re scared of a _politician_?”

“Damn straight,” Elliot shot back. “Only thing scarier than a terrorist is a parent whose child’s life is in danger.”

“I’m not a child, and I’m not in danger,” Sam argued, slipping the button into his coat pocket. “I don’t need a Secret Service detail, either.”

“Well, you’ve got one, so get used to it,” Elliot replied.

Sam’s huff of frustration was drowned out as his car’s engine turned over. He guided his car expertly out into DC morning traffic, his eyes slipping over an SUV pulling out behind him through the rearview mirror. “Is that . . .?”

“The rest of your detail?” Elliot finished? “You got it.”

Sam shook his head. “Look, I get that you’re just following orders, but don’t you think it’s a little excessive to have a protection detail in one of the most secure buildings in the country?”

Elliot’s eyebrows rose. “Given your appalling lack of attention to your surroundings, I _have_ to ask if you happened to notice the guys in suits following the president around. They aren’t exactly the Boy Scouts of America, you know.”

Sam gave him an annoyed look. “That’s different. He’s the _president_. I’m just-.”

“The _son_ of the _vice president_ ,” Elliot interjected. “Immediate families of the president and vice president are assigned details for protection. It’s policy, and it’s non negotiable.” He paused for a moment. “Just be grateful that the vice president didn’t order us to pack you up in bubble wrap. He was ready to have you moved into Observatory Circle _with_ him and Mrs. Hoynes.”

Sam nearly jerked the car into oncoming traffic in his shock. “ _What_?”

Elliot gripped the bar over the passenger door. “Relax!” he exclaimed. “Agent Butterfield and President Bartlet managed to talk him out of it.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Why would he want to do that?”

Elliot’s expression turned serious. “Look,” he said, “you’re his kid. He already lost you once. Him wanting to keep you where he can see you? Doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

Sam found himself once again rendered silent in the face of another reminder of the pain of loss that Hoynes had clearly endured.

Elliot let the silence carry them down the road for several minutes before continuing the conversation. “By the way, didn’t Agent Butterfield tell you _not_ to try to contact the Seaborns?”

Sam’s head whipped around, shock rapidly giving way to anger. “Are you . . . did you _tap_ my _phone_?”

“Not _your_ phone,” Elliot stated. “The investigative team on your case is monitoring all incoming and outgoing calls to the Seaborns’ numbers. They reported several calls from _your_ number.”

Sam clenched his jaw.

“Sam,” Elliot said quietly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. This whole situation reads like something out of a movie. But you need to let us do our job.”

“I’m entitled to some answers,” Sam stated.

“You’re absolutely right, and that’s what we’re after,” Elliot agreed. “We won’t keep anything from you, but I don’t have to tell _you_ how important it is that we do this one by the book.”

Their conversation paused as Sam negotiated his car through the security checkpoint. He continued on to the parking garage and pulled into his usual spot, then switched the engine off. Rather than climb out, he sank back into his seat, his chin lowered.

“I keep thinking that I’m stuck in some kind of weird dream, that none of this is real.” Sam looked at Elliot. “When am I going to wake up and get back to normal?”

“This _is_ your new normal now,” Elliot told him gently. “The DNA tests were as perfect a match as you can get. Whatever else you’ve been told, you _are_ Charlie Hoynes. You can call yourself anything you want, but _you are him_. You’ve also only been living with this information for a few hours. Give yourself time to get used to the idea. And give yourself a break while you’re at it.”

Sam smiled faintly at Elliot. Elliot nudged him.

“Come on,” he said. “Time to go to work.”

Sam obediently walked with Elliot and his new security detail into the White House, stopping briefly to sign in at the security desk before continuing into the West Wing. He kept expecting someone to notice the small entourage, or to stop and ask him about the agents, but no one paid them any mind.

Once they reached the communications bullpen, Sam’s protection detail split off to different areas of the room. Elliot moved to the desk near the entrance and sat down, booting the computer up for the day.

Sam hovered by the desk. “You’re really going to sit here all day while I work?”

Elliot logged into the system. “I really am.”

Sam glanced around the room, but no one else had arrived just yet. “What am I supposed to say when someone asks why you’re here?”

Elliot tilted his head. “You could try the truth.”

Sam glared half-heartedly at him.

Elliot smirked. “Relax. I’ve been here all week, and before that I had a desk at the EEOB with the rest of the communications department. No one’s asked about me yet; I doubt anyone will now. They’re about as observant as you are.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, then, have fun staring at these four walls,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll shape up to be an exhilarating day for you.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, one eyebrow raised. “You _do_ realize that, for me, a boring day is the best _kind_ of day, right?”

“Then I’m sure you’re about to have the best four to eight years of your career,” Sam rebutted as he retreated to his office.

“From your lips to God’s ears!” Elliot’s voice chased after him.

Sam allowed himself a small chuckle at the retort as he set his briefcase down and shed his coat. Glancing around the mess of reports and folders he had left behind at the president’s summons, he sighed and got to work reorganizing his tasks for the day.

He had just managed to finish revising the edits needed for the day’s press packets when a light tap on his door nabbed his attention. He glanced up, and upon finding Hoynes hovering on the threshold, he stood. “Sir?”

Hoynes smiled, glancing around Sam’s office. His eyes took in the books, awards, and slid over the flag on the wall before returning to Sam. “Good morning,” he greeted, taking a step forward into the office. “I wanted to stop by . . . say hello. Check in with you, see how you’re doing.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion, taking in Hoynes’ unusually closed off posture and realizing with a start that the older man was _nervous_. Why, Sam couldn’t guess. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you. How are you doing?”

Hoynes nodded. “I’m good,” he replied, and Sam spotted the anxious twitch of his hands, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great. Thanks.”

The silence stretched out between them.

“Was there something I could do for you, sir?” Sam asked, feeling some of Hoynes’ nervousness try to take hold under his own skin.

Hoynes gave a slight jolt at the question. “I . . . yes,” he answered. “I was just heading over to the Mess for breakfast. I was wondering if you would like to join me?”

The invitation was the last thing Sam expected from the man, but what he found even more surprising was the curl of warmth in his stomach at the brilliant smile Hoynes gave him at his acceptance.

Sam fell into step beside Hoynes, unable to help a glance behind him to see Elliot rise and follow them along with several other agents. The small smirk on Hoynes’ face told Sam that his newly-awakened attentiveness had not gone unnoticed, but mercifully, Hoynes didn’t mention it.

“The chefs here make a mean omelet,” Hoynes stated as they walked.

Sam glanced at him. “I, uh, don’t think I’ve had one.”

“What have you tried so far?” Hoynes asked.

Sam cast his mind back over the last week since the Inauguration. “To be honest, not much. There’s been too much to do lately to sit down and eat. One of my assistants has brought me some sandwiches from the Mess, though. They were pretty good.”

Hoynes nodded, filing the information into the back of his mind. “One of my staff says the pancakes here are to die for.”

Amusement quirked up the corners of Sam’s mouth. “I’m not sure food is a solid defense against martyrdom.”

The burst of laughter was unexpected, and Sam felt that warmth from earlier spread through him at making the man laugh.

The White House Mess was just beginning to wake up, other early birds wandering in for sustenance against the day. Following Hoynes’ original comment, Sam ordered an omelet and collected a cup of fresh fruit.

Armed with food and coffee, the duo moved to a table against the wall and sat down. Elliot and another agent that Sam assumed was Hoynes’ principal agent claimed another table nearby with food of their own.

“You know,” Hoynes said as they settled into their meal, “your grandmother makes the _best_ pancakes you’ll ever taste in your life.”

Sam stilled, something suspiciously close to yearning tugging at his heart. “Really?”

Hoynes nodded, his eyes on a distant memory. “Oh, yes. She makes all kinds; buttermilk, blueberry, pecan . . . my favorite has always been her banana nut pancakes. She always makes them for me the first morning I visit her.” He focused on Sam. “She’ll be overjoyed to make them for you, too. Any kind you want.”

“She will?” Sam asked.

“Of course,” Hoynes replied. “She only makes them for family, you know. As soon as we call her, she’ll probably be on the first plane up here.”

Sam poked at his omelet, feeling his appetite start to fade. “You haven’t told her yet?”

Hoynes studied Sam carefully. “We haven’t told anyone yet. Your mom is calling your brothers today, though, but just to tell them to get back here. We wanted them to be the first people we told, and this isn’t exactly something you share over the phone.”

Sam nodded wordlessly.

“She’s going to make dinner tomorrow,” Hoynes continued. “Your mom. She wants to make her famous pot roast. We’d really love it if you would join us. Maybe meet your brothers?”

“Um . . . yeah,” Sam said, pushing a piece of egg around his plate. “Sure. Yes, sir.”

Hoynes frowned slightly. “It wasn’t an order, Sam. You can say no if you’re not ready yet.”

Sam straightened in his chair, shaking his head and meeting Hoynes’ eyes. “No, I . . . I’d like to join you. Really.”

Hoynes held Sam’s gaze as if to reassure himself that Sam was telling him the truth. Finding no sign of deception, he nodded. “Okay. Great. I’ll let Suzanne know.”

They lapsed into silence as they continued to eat.

Hoynes cleared his throat. “So . . . Sam . . .”

Sam waited. When nothing else was forthcoming, he prompted, “Mr. Vice President?”

Hoynes winced at the address. “Sam . . . you don’t have to call me that. You’re my son.”

“What . . . what should I call you?” Sam asked.

Hoynes reflected on the question. “I think . . . I realize it’s too soon for you to feel comfortable calling me ‘dad’. Why don’t we start with calling me ‘John’ and your mom ‘Suzanne’ until you’re ready?”

Sam nodded, relieved at not being forced to acknowledge the connection just yet. “Yes, sir. John.”

Hoynes smiled faintly at him. “I was going to ask what you were working on today.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “Oh, um . . . the usual, I guess. Everyone and their brother seems to want a comment or a statement from the president about something, so there’s that. Mostly, I’ll be working on drafting sections for President Bartlet’s administration goals speech next month.”

“Have you worked out the topics yet?” Hoynes asked.

As Sam discussed the finer points of his work, he felt himself relax. His appetite had returned, and before long he was engaged in an animated discussion over the various needs of education reform.

“. . . teacher shortage,” Hoynes was saying. “They’re facing more and more challenges every year, and that gap will only widen. We need to do what we can, with funding and resources, to help meet those challenges.”

Sam nodded in agreement, his mind linking over to the other part of his task for the day. “Can I . . . can I ask you a question?”

Hoynes looked surprised. “Of course.”

Emboldened by their easy camaraderie, Sam took a chance. “I wanted to ask you about 286.”

Consternation crossed over Hoynes’ face. “If you’re asking me to back off on 286-.”

Something in Hoynes’ tone reminded Sam very strongly of Winters, and he instinctively recoiled. “No! No, I . . . never mind. It’s not important.” He ducked his head, poking listlessly at his food.

Hoynes pushed aside his own frustration, frowning at Sam’s reaction. His instincts screamed at him that something wasn’t right, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what. He sighed.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. 286 is a sore subject with me, but that’s no reason to jump down your throat.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look up. He continued to sit silently, moving food around his plate. Hoynes despaired of getting back their easy banter when Sam finally glanced up at him.

“What inspired you to write 286?” he asked.

Hoynes wondered if he would ever cease to be surprised by Sam. Guilt at his earlier overreaction tainted the feeling.

“Your mother, actually,” he told Sam.

Sam’s eyebrows lifted.

Hoynes nodded. “You know, I’ve been advocating for this bill for about fifteen years, and you’re the first person to ask me that question.”

Sam found his confidence slowly returning. “How did . . . How did Suzanne inspire 286?”

“Your mother, before I ran for my second Senate term, worked as an elementary teacher in a low-income neighborhood,” Hoynes answered. “She always used to talk about how unfair it was that the students in her school had far more disadvantages than the more affluent schools in her district, but that they were still held to the same standards. One of the things she always wanted for them was to level the playing field with access to technology.”

Sam was nodding in agreement, the spark returning to his eyes. “She’s right,” he said. “Equitable access to resources for _all_ children will help, but we can’t stop there. We also need to ensure that our teachers are just as equally qualified. Though we have many skilled teachers in low-income schools, you can’t deny that the ratio of veteran, experienced teachers to those just out of college is slanted heavily in favor of more advantaged schools.”

Hoynes was intrigued at the hints of fire that Sam was beginning to show, and he realized he desperately wanted to see that fire released. “You know,” he said, “I had a visitor in my office the other day who was looking for support on a new bill he was writing. He believes that we could vastly improve public education by shifting teacher salaries over to merit-based pay, using standardized test scores as the measure.”

Sam’s entire frame stiffened; Hoynes suddenly had the impression of a lion preparing to pounce. “What?”

Hoynes nodded, deciding to add a little more fuel to the fire. “He made a fairly compelling case, too. There’d be no additional cost to taxpayers.”

“No additional _monetary_ cost,” Sam said sharply. “What about the cost of their _children’s education_?”

Hoynes shrugged. “Public education is already subpar; it couldn’t make things worse.”

Sam opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He took a deep breath, reining himself in. “I suppose,” he ground out, “that the argument could be made.”

_So close_. “And it would make teachers work harder to teach their students,” Hoynes added.

“Respectfully, _sir_ , I disagree,” Sam stated. He was holding onto his indignation by a thread. “The _only_ thing that merit-based pay would improve would be test scores, _not_ education.”

_Nearly there_. “What’s the difference?” Hoynes retorted.

The casual indifference, more than the words, severed that final thread.

“ _What’s_ the _difference_?” Sam fired back, blue eyes blazing. “How about the fact that test scores are merely a snapshot of a single day and are not truly reflective of student progress over the course of the year? How about the fact that even the strongest curriculum gets lost in the rush to prepare for a test?”

Hoynes felt the old, familiar rush of debate and allowed himself to become swept away by it.. “You can’t measure progress without some form of assessment,” he pointed out. “Standardized testing allows us a common bar for students to reach. It can also be a common bar to measure teachers, too.”

“A standard that is so far below baseline ability of what students are capable of doing!” Sam insisted.

“If it’s so low, then our students should have no problem reaching it,” Hoynes said. “Merit-based pay would ensure that our students’ scores will raise.”

“No, merit-based pay will ensure that our teachers will teach students only what they need to know to take a test,” Sam countered. “By awarding merit-based pay, we’re placing a higher priority on test scores and undervaluing the entire point of the system, which is to prepare our children for their future, Communication skills, empathy, problem solving, critical thinking; none of which can be found on a test!”

“But-,” Hoynes tried.

Sam wasn’t finished. “Then there’s the fact that veteran teachers, teachers with the _most_ experience, who deserve to be paid far more for their years of service than they currently get, are often given the hardest to reach students. Students with extra needs, who require more attention, and who struggle enough as it is to reach what, I think, is an unfair assessment. A merit-based pay scale would see these teachers being compensated _even less_ than they are now. We’d be creating a mass exodus of the very teachers we’re fighting so hard to keep!”

Hoynes couldn’t tear his eyes away from his son. Lit up with the passion and conviction of his beliefs, he was a sight to behold.

“And what about the accessibility gap you mentioned a few minutes ago?” Sam demanded. “Those teachers are already at a stark disadvantage with lack of resources and parent support. We’d only be setting them up for failure, setting a target that they have even less hope to reach because we’ve reduced their funding. Or haven’t you considered that those teachers are the ones _using_ parts of their salaries to buy school supplies for their students? What’s the _difference_? The _difference_ is that we would stop educating our children in favor of rewarding good test takers!”

Hoynes leaned back in his chair, pride and awe clear on his face.

Sam, coming down from his impassioned rant, frowned in confusion. “What?”

Hoynes slowly shook his head. “I know that I don’t have any right to claim this, but . . . I’m just so damned proud of you.”

Sam gave a start, a blush rising in his cheeks. “I . . . what?”

“You argue exceptionally well,” Hoynes told him. “Better than most people I’ve met. You must have been a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom.”

If possible, Sam’s blush deepened at the praise.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hoynes and Sam turned as one to see Mark Reynolds standing several feet away, glancing curiously between them. He focused his attention on Hoynes.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have that meeting in fifteen minutes,” Mark stated.

Hoynes glanced at his watch, startled. “Already?”

Mark nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Hoynes pushed his tray aside and stood. To Sam, he said, “I’m sorry to leave so abruptly, but thank you for joining me. I enjoyed this.”

Sam nodded. “I . . . me too,” he admitted. A thought struck him. “Wait!”

Hoynes paused, glancing back down at Sam.

Worry was brimming in Sam’s eyes. “You don’t . . . that visitor . . .”

Hoynes waited patiently.

Sam sighed. “You don’t _really_ think we should move to merit-based pay for teachers,” he asked. “Do you?”

A smile broke out on Hoynes’ face. “Of course not,” he replied. “Aside from the fact your mother would kill me, I actually agree with you on that. I was just enjoying the debate.”

With a mischievous wink, he turned and walked with Mark from the Mess, leaving a stunned Deputy Communications Director in his wake.

* * *

The frenetic pace of the West Wing didn’t allow Sam to dwell on the unexpected debate at breakfast for long. In fact, Sam barely had room in his mind to spare for the huge upheaval in his personal life. Even with Toby taking back his responsibilities as head of the department, Sam’s attention was in high demand throughout the day. No sooner than he’d cleared a task from his inbox or delegated something out did three more appear. Rather than feeling overwhelmed, Sam took refuge in the one aspect of his life that had remained normal.

“Sam?” Cathay poked her head through his office door.

“Hmm?” Reclined in his chair, feet on his desk and pen pressed to his mouth, Sam’s eyes never strayed from the news release he was editing.

“It’s eleven-thirty,” Cathy told him.

Sam made a notation on the release. “Mmm-hmm.”

“You asked me to tell you when it was eleven-thirty,” Cathy stated.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Sam.”

Sam finally looked up at Cathy, blue eyes blinking owlishly from behind his glasses. “What?”

Cathy rolled her eyes. “It’s eleven-thirty, I’m going to lunch, and you have a visitor.”

Sam glanced at his watch, then dropped his feet to the floor. “Thanks, Cathy. Uh . . . a visitor?”

Zoey Bartlet moved into view, smiling brightly. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam stood. “Zoey! Hey; what brings you by?”

Zoey smiled at Cathy, who returned it and walked back to her desk to collect her purse. Zoey stepped into the office as Sam moved to clear a space on one of his chairs. “I heard you joined the club and came to see how you were doing.”

Sam moved to close his office door. “Club? What club?”

Zoey sat down and smirked. “The ‘my overprotective father likes to use his authority with the Secret Service over me’ club?”

Sam quirked an eyebrow as he moved back to his chair. “The name could use a little work,” he quipped. “How did you find out?”

“Mom,” Zoey replied easily. “She didn’t want to break any confidences, but she thought it might help to talk to someone who understands what it’s like.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I appreciate that; really. But you’ve always known that President Bartlet was your father.”

Zoey nodded, not offended in the least. “True,” she conceded. “But that still doesn’t make dealing with the Secret Service any easier.”

Sam suddenly scowled. “Did they _really_ make you carry a panic button?”

Zoey reached into her pocket and pulled out a familiar black box, holding it up for Sam to see.

Sam pulled his out of his pocket and mirrored the move. Both of them began to laugh.

“So who’s your primary?” Zoey asked, returning her panic button to her pocket.

“Elliot,” Sam replied. He set his button to one side. “Agent Price. Who seems to be perfectly fine with spending the day sitting out in the bullpen.”

“At least he’s an adult out there with other adults,” Zoey pointed out wryly. “He can blend in. Try having them follow you around in school.”

Sam winced at the thought. “I never considered that.”

Zoey shrugged. “It’s not so bad. At least I’m a senior, and everyone already knew me before my dad became president.” She paused for a moment. “You can talk to them, you know. The agents? You can tell them stuff. They won’t tell anyone else.”

Sam gave her a skeptical look.

“No, really,” Zoey insisted. “Jill, my primary? She told me. She said she can’t do her job if I hide things from her, so I can tell her stuff and as long as it doesn’t endanger me, she can’t tell any of it to anyone.”

Sam filed the information away to examine later.

Zoey tilted her head to one side. “Can I ask . . .?”

“You can ask me anything,” Sam told her.

Zoey took a breath. “Mom said you weren’t telling anyone else about being Charlie. About the vice president being your dad. Why not?”

Sam smiled ruefully at her. “You _would_ ask the hard questions.”

Zoey waited patiently for Sam to gather his thoughts.

Sam sighed. “It’s hard to explain,” he finally said. “Growing up, my family . . . you didn’t talk about them. They were . . . _are_ . . . powerful, influential people. People that others want something from. I was taught never to exploit those connections, to not let _anyone_ exploit those connections. I guess . . . I just got used to never really talking about family.” He shrugged apologetically. “I guess it doesn’t really make a lot of sense, does it?”

“It kind of does,” Zoey replied. “But you know, not _everyone_ is like that. Josh isn’t. Neither are Toby or CJ. When you’re ready to tell them, they’ll be happy for you. I know I am.”

Sam’s smile was small but grateful.

“ _And_ ,” Zoey added, “as a friend who understands about being in the public eye, if you ever want to talk about it, or complain about how ridiculous it is that your dad thinks a protective detail of six is too small, I’m here for you.”

Sam’s grin widened. “Thanks,” he said. “And just so you know, the offer goes both ways.”

A knock on the door drew their attention as Josh entered the office. “Sam, I-.” He paused in confusion. “Hey, Zoey.”

“Hi, Josh,” Zoey greeted.

Josh glanced between the two of them. “Am I interrupting something?”

Zoey stood. “No, I was just visiting,” she answered. She turned to Sam. “See you later.”

Sam nodded. “Thanks, Zoey.”

With another smile at Josh, Zoey made her way out of the office. Josh watched her leave, then turned back to Sam. “She was just visiting?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

Josh’s frown looked suspiciously close to a pout. “She didn’t come visit _me_.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe she thought you were in a meeting,” he deflected.

Josh considered that for a moment, then dismissed it with a shrug. Taking the seat Zoey had vacated, he leaned forward eagerly. “So?”

Sam’s eyebrows drew together. “So . . . what?”

“So?” Josh repeated. “Your uncle? 286? Have you heard back from him yet?”

Confusion cleared the way for disbelief. “Josh, we literally just spoke with him _yesterday_.”

Josh waved a hand. “Time moves fast in DC. He didn’t call you yet?”

Sam shook his head. “No, and I don’t have any messages either. I’ve been tied up in meetings off and on since then, and,” he glanced at his watch, “I’ve got another one soon. President Bartlet said yesterday that he’s willing to meet with Uncle Chris. I asked Mrs. Landingham to contact his office and set something up.”

Josh nodded, leaning back. “Let me know the _minute_ you hear something, okay? I’ve already got three congressmen on the hook, waiting to see which way Winters will vote.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Three_? Already?”

Josh grinned. “Like I said, time moves fast in DC. I’m back on the Hill this afternoon; you’ll call me?”

“I’ll call you,” Sam promised.

“Great!” Josh rose to his feet. “Thanks, buddy. See you later.”

Sam glanced at his watch again, then returned to the news release he had been editing. He had just picked up his pen when he suddenly froze.

_Chris_.

In the wake of his earth-shattering news, he had completely forgotten about his uncle. His uncle, who was supposedly there when he’d been born. And the Secret Service had made no mention of him in their investigation.

Sam reached for his phone, then paused.

His need to learn the truth warred with Winters’ potential reaction to asking such volatile questions. For a man who demanded respect of him his whole life, he detested it whenever Sam questioned him. Asking Winters if his mother was really his mother would, without a doubt, invite a level of trouble that Sam didn’t want or particularly need at the moment.

Still . . .

What if he _did_ know something?

Sam sighed, dropping his hand. Going in, guns blazing, was not the way to approach his uncle. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it right. He decided to wait for an appropriate moment and try then.

Nodding to himself, Sam glanced at his watch. Registering the time with a start, he surged to his feet with a curse. Grabbing folders almost at random, he ran out of his office.

* * *

John Hoynes nodded and smiled in greeting at the staffers he passed on his way through the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. His uncharacteristically upbeat attitude drew curious looks from those who knew him, but Hoynes paid them no mind as he headed down the hall towards his wife’s office.

Suzanne was not alone in her office; she was sitting in front of her desk beside her chief of staff, the two women looking at something on the desk. Hoynes cleared his throat, smiling wider as they turned in his direction.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he greeted. “Rachel, mind if I steal my wife for lunch?”

“As long as you promise to return her in time for her meeting with the Secretary of Education,” Rachel grinned, standing.

Suzanne stood as well, moving to greet Hoynes with a kiss. “You’re in an awfully good mood,” she observed.

Hoynes tucked her arm in his and began to lead her out of her office and towards his. “It’s an awfully good day,” he told her with a bright smile.

“I take it that your plan to eat breakfast together with Sam went well,” Suzanne stated. She leaned her head against Hoynes’ shoulder. “How is he?”

Hoynes squeezed her arm. “He’s still unsure about the whole situation, but he’s trying.”

“What did you two talk about?” Suzanne asked.

They walked into Hoynes’ ceremonial office, where food for a private lunch for two had been set out. Hoynes guided his wife to the table, pulling out the chair for her before rounding the table to sit down.

“Not so much at first,” Hoynes answered. “I told him about Mom’s pancakes, but talking about family seemed to make him nervous. Then he asked about 286.”

Suzanne paused in her serving of food onto their plates, her shrewd gaze on her husband. “Oh?”

Hoynes winced. “I may have jumped to conclusions and . . . was a little abrupt.”

“John,” Suzanne said disapprovingly.

Hoynes held up his hands. “I know, I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get defensive. And with his team pushing to change it . . .”

“Which is why you shouldn’t talk about 286 with him,” Suzanne stated. “The last thing he needs is to be in the middle of your feud with his boss.”

Hoynes nodded. “I know, and I apologized for jumping to conclusions. So we started talking about education in general, and I wanted to get his opinion on merit-based pay for teachers.”

“And?” Suzanne prompted.

Hoynes smiled broadly, the pride shining out of him in a glow. “You should have _seen_ him, Suz! He became so . . . so _offended_ at even the _slightest_ impunity against teachers. He was _brilliant_ ; he fired off extremely strong points in his favor and wouldn’t let me keep mine unchallenged. God, he was so _quick_ , so _passionate_ . . .”

Suzanne couldn’t help but to match her husband’s smile. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Maybe you can see some of it at dinner tomorrow,” Hoynes offered. “I told Sam about it, and he agreed to join us.”

Suzanne nodded, her smile growing. “I’m glad. I hate to make him so uncomfortable when he must be feeling overwhelmed, but I’d really like to get to know him better.”

“Have you talked to the boys yet?” Hoynes asked.

“I did,” Suzanne confirmed. “They both had questions, understandably, since they were just here last week for the Inauguration. I told them that I’d answer all of their questions once they got here.”

“Did they mention how long they’d be able to stay?” Hoynes asked.

“Both of them agreed to take a week for now,” Suzanne told him. “They might want to change their minds once they realize why they’re here.”

“When do they get here?” Hoynes asked. “I’d like to see them when they get in, if possible.”

Suzanne took a sip of her water. “Jamie’s catching a lift to Andrews. He should be here later tonight. Jake can’t get a flight until tomorrow. He said he’ll text us later with specifics once he’s booked his flight.”

Hoynes nodded. “I may not be able to be there when you tell them about Charlie. About Sam.”

Suzanne patted his hand, then squeezed it. “That’s all right. But if you don’t manage to bring him home with you tomorrow, I won’t be held responsible for whatever your sons might do.”

Hoynes chuckled. “Noted,” he replied. “So tell me; how has your morning been?”

* * *

end chapter 3


	4. Chapter Four

_ Friday, January 30 _

Logically, Sam could understand Hoynes’ breakfast invitation the day before. He’d just rediscovered his long lost son, and it made sense that he’d want to spend some time getting to know him better. Now, moving into a second full day of being a Hoynes instead of a Seaborn, Sam expected things to settle back to normal. Especially after spectacularly embarrassing himself by blindly arguing against a bill that Hoynes had no intention of supporting.

Which was why Sam had been floored when Hoynes appeared at his office door that morning at about the same time with another invitation to breakfast.

“You . . . you want to eat breakfast with me?” Sam repeated dumbly. “Again?”

A concerned frown began to crease Hoynes’ face. “If you’re busy, or if you’d rather not-,” he began.

“It’s not that,” Sam hurriedly said. “I just . . . after yesterday . . .”

The concern only deepened. “What  _ about _ yesterday?”

Twin spots of color appeared high on Sam’s cheeks. “I . . . I should apologize,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you by accusing you of supporting that bill . . . I should have known that you’d never . . .”

Hoynes’ expression cleared, giving way to a fond smile. “Sam, you have  _ nothing _ to apologize for,” he said gently. “If anything,  _ I _ should apologize to  _ you _ . I deliberately goaded you into that debate.”

Sam was stunned. “ _ Why _ ?”

Hoynes took a step into the office. “Because I could see the fire in your eyes as you spoke about education. Because I could hear the conviction in your voice, and because I wanted to see what you could do. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Sam shook his head, still surprised. “So I . . . I didn’t embarrass myself then?”

“On the contrary,” Hoynes told him. “I was actually hoping for a rematch. With someone who can give me a run for my money.”

The prospect of engaging in a debate just for the sheer enjoyment of it sounded very appealing to Sam. He smiled slightly. “So . . . breakfast?”

The two men chatted as they walked to the Mess, their words flowing between them more steadily than the day before. Sam mentioned an upcoming meeting with lobbyists for alternative energy, and Hoynes chuckled over his own meeting that day with a representative from the oil industry.

As they collected their meal and moved towards the table they had claimed the day before, Hoynes switched topics. “So I heard that Zoey came to visit you yesterday.”

Sam narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You know, there seems to be a lot more people aware of what I’m doing than I’m used to. If there’s some kind of loop, I want in on it.”

Hoynes smirked. “It’s not so much as a  _ loop _ as it is a  _ chain _ , and you’ll want to get used to that. Your mom and Abbey Bartlet are becoming pretty good friends, and they spoke yesterday. I have a feeling that’s going to become a regular thing.”

Sam winced.

Hoynes nodded in sympathy. “Yep. So Abbey told Suzanne, who mentioned it to me.”

Sam suppressed an aggrieved eye roll. “Yeah, she stopped by yesterday. Actually, she was really great. It was nice to talk to someone who understood some of what I’m dealing with.”

Hoynes nodded. “I’m glad that she was able to do that for you. Have you . . . have you considered talking to anyone else yet?”

Sam ducked his head. “No.”

Hoynes dipped his head, catching Sam’s eyes. “I’m not trying to pressure you into talking, Sam. I just want to make sure that you have people in your corner that you can lean on when you need it, even if those people are someone other than me and Suzanne.”

Sam smiled shyly, lifting his head slightly. “Thanks.”

Hoynes smiled back, taking a bite of his breakfast. “So,” he said. “How is Agent Price working out?”

This time the eye roll managed to escape. Sam glanced over at Elliot, who caught his eye and gave him a small smirk before returning his attention to the rest of the room.

“I can’t believe he just stayed in the communications bullpen the whole time I worked,” he exclaimed.

Hoynes gave him a pointed look. “ _ I _ can’t believe he’s been doing it for five weeks and you never even noticed.”

Sam shrugged. “There’s a lot of people in my department,” he offered up lamely.

Hoynes lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t challenge the comment.

A thought occurred to Sam. “Hey; do your other sons have their own protection details too?”

Hoynes nodded, smirking. “They sure do, and both have jobs that require some degree of hand-to-hand skills or combat training, so if  _ they _ get a security detail, you  _ definitely _ do, too.”

The response sparked a small flicker of curiosity in Sam. “Can you . . . can you tell me about them?” he asked.

Hoynes was pleasantly surprised at the request. “Of course!” he exclaimed. He pulled out his cell phone and tapped on the screen for a few minutes, then handed it to Sam. “That’s Jake. He’s about six years older than you.”

Sam studied the image of a smiling man with dark hair and blue eyes the same shade as his. In the photo he was crouching down beside a German Shepherd whose tongue was hanging out of its mouth in a pseudo-smile.

“What does he do?” Sam asked.

“Jake is a detective with the Fort Worth police department,” Hoynes answered, pride injected into his tone. “He started out in Abilene, then transferred over to the Metroplex seven years ago to gain more experience in a bigger city.” Hoynes took his phone back, swiped through a few more photos, then handed it back to Sam.

The smiling face in  _ this _ photo could have belonged to Hoynes thirty years ago. There was no mistaking this man as Hoynes’ son.

“That’s James, but he goes by Jamie,” Hoynes told Sam. “He’s three years older than you, and he works as an aerospace engineer for the Air Force. Right now he’s stationed out at Arnold Air Force Base in Tennessee, designing aircraft and building and testing prototypes.”

“Wow.” Sam passed the phone back to Hoynes. “They both sound like very impressive men. You must be really proud of them.”

Hoynes pocketed his phone, giving Sam a firm look. “All  _ three _ of my sons are impressive men, and yes, I’m as proud as hell of  _ all _ of them.”

Sam blushed. “Where, um . . . where did they go to school?” he asked, hoping to deflect the compliment.

“Jake studied Criminal Justice at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth,” Hoynes answered. “Even played football for them, and he had offers to go pro, but he really wanted to be a police officer.”

“And Jamie?” Sam asked.

“Actually, Jamie didn’t go to college right away,” Hoynes said. “He wanted to get some experience first. I have to admit, we went round and round on that, but he ended up being right about it. He enlisted in the Air Force, then used his GI bill to get his degree in mechanical engineering.”

“More and more of our active duty and retired military are taking advantage of that option,” Sam pointed out. “Too bad there isn’t enough money to provide that option to everyone.”

“What do you mean?” Hoynes asked.

“Well, education provides access to more opportunities,” Sam pointed out. “By providing tuition-free college, doors would open for certain populations that would otherwise have remained closed to them.”

“And you’re not at all concerned that, in order to provide this, the taxpayers would spend billions of dollars to subsidize tuition?” Hoynes challenged.

Yesterday, Sam hadn’t seen the signs of Hoynes provoking him into a heated response. Today, however, Sam recognized it immediately.

“Billions of dollars which would then be put right back into the economy,” Sam countered. “Nearly half of all college students immediately after World War II were military veterans utilizing the GI bill. With college degrees, they were able to get better paying jobs, and could buy homes and cars to contribute to the booming economy.”

“But that was over sixty years ago,” Hoynes pointed out. “College tuition didn’t cost nearly what it does today.”

“Neither do cars or real estate,” Sam fired back. “The increased cost and ensuing benefits are still comparable in relation to each other.”

“All that assumes that those who attend college actually go on to graduate,” Hoynes said. “I grant you, post World War II, the United States saw an increase in veterans using the GI bill, but back then we placed first in the world for college graduates. Today we place tenth. What good is spending taxpayers' money to send people to college when thirty percent of students drop out in their first year?”

“We can’t just deny the other seventy percent the opportunity for a college education,” Sam argued.

“I’m not denying them the opportunity, I’m just saying if I’m going to pay more in taxes, then I better see some gains,” Hoynes said.

A gentle throat-clearing interrupted their debate. Hoynes’ principal Secret Service agent was standing by their table.

Hoynes looked up at him, then at his watch. “Ah. Thanks, Carl.” He turned to Sam. “I’m sorry, but I have to get going.” He pointed at his son. “This isn’t finished yet.”

Sam’s blinding grin froze Hoynes in his tracks. “Damn right it’s not.”

Hoynes shook off his shock as he stood. “Don’t forget, we’re on for dinner tonight. Need a ride?”

Sam sobered at the reminder. He nodded. “Meet you in your West Wing office?”

“Five-thirty,” Hoynes agreed. “See you then.”

Sam nodded again, watching Hoynes leave before turning his attention back to his half-eaten breakfast.

Elliot abruptly slid into the seat Hoynes had vacated. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you on the free college. I’ve met a lot of guys who only enlisted as a way to get a college education.”

“John wasn’t wrong, though,” Sam told him. “It  _ does _ cost the taxpayers more money initially, and the dropout rates  _ have _ increased over the years.”

Elliot tilted his head in confusion. “Didn’t you just spend the last ten minutes arguing with him on that?”

Sam grinned. “What kind of lawyer would I be if I couldn’t argue both sides?”

Elliot snorted and glanced at his watch. “We should get moving if you want to make it to Senior Staff on time.”

Tossing his napkin onto his plate, Sam stood and walked with Elliot out of the Mess.

* * *

“Mom?”

Jake jumped out of the SUV that the Secret Service had used to transport him from the airport to Number One Observatory Circle, duffel bag in hand. He dropped his duffel on the floor just inside the door, head swiveling around in search of a familiar face.

“Jake!”

Jake turned as his younger brother emerged from the sitting room. Crossing the distance, Jake pulled Jamie into a quick hug of greeting, then moved back.

“What’s all this about?” he demanded. “Why did Mom need us back so soon? Is Dad okay?”

Jamie shook his head. “Dad’s fine; I saw him when I got in last night,” he answered. “I have no idea why Mom called us. Mom wouldn’t tell me anything until you got here. Dad either.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Jake stated. “Where are they?”

“Mom’s upstairs in the study,” Jamie told him. “She said to bring you to her as soon as you got here.”

Abandoning his duffel for now, Jake followed Jamie up the stairs and into the study.

The study was a spacious room with cream-colored walls and several mahogany bookshelves filled with books that Jake had never bothered to examine. There were two desks in the room now, different from the one that it had been just a little over a week ago. Near the window on the far wall were several plush armchairs arranged around a table. Suzanne was reviewing something in a folder in one of the chairs, but looked up at her sons’ entrance.

“Jake!” Setting the folder aside, Suzanne stood and welcomed her oldest with a hug.

Jake endured the hug for as long as he could, but concern drove his actions. He pulled back, searching for answers on his mother’s face. “What’s going on? Is it Dad?”

Suzanne smiled. “No, your dad’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Let’s sit down.”

Jake tossed Jamie a bewildered glance as Suzanne sat back down. Jamie shrugged helplessly. Almost reluctantly, both boys sat down with their mother, but both remained perched on the edges of their seats.

Suzanne gave them a joyful smile. “The reason I called and asked you both to come back here is because of Charlie.”

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “What  _ about _ Charlie?”

Suzanne took a deep breath; she felt she had been waiting her whole life to utter her next words. “We found him.”

Silence met her stunning declaration.

“Wh-What?” Jake choked out.

“The Secret Service was running background checks on everyone when they noticed something wrong with one of the birth certificates,” Suzanne told them. “They did a little more digging and ran a DNA test. It came back a match to Charlie.”

As soon as the explanation sank in, it seemed as if a dam had burst as both of her sons peppered her with questions.

“Is he okay?” Jake asked.

“Have you seen him?” Jamie added.

“Does he know about us?”

“Where is he?”

“Can we see him?”

“Who took him?”

Suzanne held her hands up against the onslaught, more than aware of her own position barely two days before as she fired the same questions at Sam. Speaking of which . . .

“First,” she said, quieting both boys with one word, “you should know that he wants to be called ‘Sam’.”

Jamie frowned. “Why?”

“When the Secret Service told him, he had no idea of any of this,” Suzanne said. “He grew up believing he was born Sam Seaborn, and he’s been having a difficult time wrapping his head around all of this. As far as I’ve heard, he hasn’t even told anyone else about this.”

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but Jake cut him off.

“Wait,” he said, frowning in thought. “Seaborn . . . didn’t he . . . wasn’t he the president’s speechwriter or something?”

Suzanne nodded. “One of them.”

“Are the Seaborns the ones who took him?” Jamie asked. “Have you met them?”

“We don’t know yet,” Suzanne replied. “And no; they live in California, which is where Sam grew up. The Secret Service is questioning them about all of that.”

“Have you met Char- Sam?” Jake corrected himself. “What’s he like?”

Suzanne smiled broadly. “I’ve only spoken to him myself on Wednesday night, when we all found out,” she replied. “He’s very bright; he finished high school at sixteen and went to Princeton, majoring in English. Then he attended Duke Law.”

Jamie snorted. “A lawyer, huh? Dad must be over the moon.”

Suzanne’s smile only widened. “Your dad  _ did _ mention how good he was. He’s going into work earlier to meet Sam for breakfast now. Your dad told me that Sam managed to argue him down on a position in three minutes flat.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “He argued  _ Dad _ down? He  _ must _ be good.”

Suzanne nodded. “He’s also quite funny; he’s got a quick mouth to go with that quick mind.”

“Can we meet him?” Jamie asked.

“He’s agreed to come here for dinner tonight,” Suzanne said. “You can meet him then.” Her gaze sharpened into a stern expression that both Jake and Jamie were intimately familiar with. “I don’t want you two boys to overwhelm him or push him if he’s not comfortable with something. It was a big shock to all of us, and we’ve been looking for him for twenty-seven years. Sam never even had the slightest idea that he wasn’t who he was, so you can just imagine what he’s been going through the last two days.”

“Of course,” Jamie replied, almost offended at the warning.

Suzanne softened and glanced quickly at her watch. “I took most of the day off, but I have a meeting in about an hour that I need to get to. I’m coming right back to get started on dinner. I managed to get most of the groceries I needed delivered this morning, but I forgot to add shortening to the list. Can I trust you boys to run and pick it up for me?”

“Mom, I run several investigations at a time, and Jamie builds cutting edge drones from scratch,” Jake said wryly. “I think we can handle a trip to Walmart.”

Suzanne’s eyes narrowed. “Let me rephrase,” she said. “Can I trust you boys to run and pick up some shortening for me  _ without _ making any unscheduled detours to the White House?”

“Mom, come on,” Jamie said. “You know us.”

“I mean it,” Suzanne pressed, refusing to be swayed. “You’ll meet your brother at dinner tonight. Leave him be for now.”

“We got it,” Jake assured his mother.

Suzanne held their gazes for another moment, then stood. Dropping a kiss on top of both of their heads, she took her leave.

As soon as Suzanne’s clicking heels faded behind a distantly closed door, Jamie turned to his brother.

“Feel like visiting Dad at work?” he suggested.

“Well, I  _ haven’t _ seen him yet to say hi,” Jake answered.

Grinning, both boys rose and headed out of the study.

* * *

“Which way?”

“You think  _ I _ know?”

“You were here with Dad just last week.”

“So were you!”

Jake and Jamie stood in the middle of the foyer, glancing right and left as people streamed past them. Their security details had spread out around the room with poorly disguised grins of amusement, leaving each team’s principal agent standing near their charges.

Jamie eyed his guard. “You know, some insider knowledge would be pretty useful right now,” he pointed out.

The guard, Elijah, flashed him a bright white smile that shone against his dark skin. “And put myself in the path of your mother? Thanks, but I think I’ll enjoy this train wreck from the sidelines.”

“If it’s so bad, why aren’t you stopping us then?” Jamie challenged as Jake left his side to wander closer to a door.

“My job is to stop you and protect you from any  _ outside _ threats,” Elijah answered. “You’re on your own with your mom.”

“Hey!”

Jamie turned from glaring at Elijah to looking over at Jake, who was beckoning him over. “You found him?”

“No, but I think I recognize some of those people,” Jake answered. “This way.”

Jamie obediently trailed after his older brother, looking around at the flurry of activity that filled the room. The ringing of phones and the rustling of papers filled the air as they narrowly dodged around several staffers in an obvious hurry. Jamie idly wondered how anyone managed to focus in the midst of such a maelstrom.

He frowned. “Jake, I don’t think-.”

“Jamie?”

Jamie froze and turned, surprised. His eyes fell on Josh Lyman, who had just exited an office and stood framed in the doorway. Josh’s eyes shifted to something over Jamie’s shoulder, and Jamie glanced behind him to see that Jake had joined him.

“Jake?” Josh continued, moving closer. “Hey, how are you guys doing?”

“We’re good, thanks,” Jake said, rather abruptly.

Jamie concealed a wince. While he could understand Josh wanting to leave his father’s campaign, Jake had never quite forgiven him for jumping ship. “Er, how are you? Looks like you’re keeping busy.”

Josh shrugged, glancing around. “I’d like to say it’ll all settle down soon, but I have a feeling that would be a lie.” He took another step closer, moving out of the way of a harried assistant. “I thought you guys left town after the Inauguration.”

“We did,” Jake told him. “Mom asked us to come back to help her with something.”

“Is she okay?” Josh asked, frowning.

Jamie appreciated the concern, and he smiled reassuringly. “She’s fine,” he told Josh. “She’s working on a family thing and wanted us here to help.”

“Well, if you’re looking for her, you’re in the wrong building,” Josh stated. “I think she took an office at the EEOB.”

“We know,” Jake replied. “We wanted to stop by and say hi to our dad. I just flew in this morning.”

“Okay,” Josh said easily. “But you won’t find him that way.” He jutted a thumb back the way they had come. “You’ll want to go back that way, past communications. Do you need an escort?”

“Thanks, but we’ll be okay,” Jake answered. “We don’t want to keep you.”

“All right,” Josh said. “Good seeing you both.”

Josh had barely left when Jake grabbed Jamie’s arm and propelled him back to the lobby. Jamie yanked his arm free, but kept pace with his brother.

“Are you going to recognize him if you see him?” Jamie asked Jake. “I barely even remember his name being mentioned at the Inaugural Ball.”

“I think so,” Jake said. “Someone pointed him out to me at the Ball, so I-.”

They turned around a corner and came to a complete stop.

There, standing in the middle of their path, stood their father with his arms crossed and a flat and unimpressed look on his face.

“Boys,” Hoynes rumbled.

The obvious disapproval rolled over them, but that didn’t stop Jake or Jamie from rising to the challenge.

“Hi Dad!” Jamie said brightly. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Uh huh,” Hoynes replied. “Let’s go.”

The boys stood firm. “Dad, we want to see him!” Jamie insisted.

“He’s not here,” Hoynes told them. “Come on.”

“Where is he?” Jake demanded.

Hoynes unfolded his arms and reached out, grasping each of his son’s arms and marching them in the other direction. “He’s in a meeting with some lobbyists in the Mural Room,” he told them. “You can meet him tonight.”

Hoynes waited until they were safely ensconced in his office before releasing his sons. “Care to explain how you two somehow took a wrong turn on the way to the grocery store? I’m fairly certain your mom told you both that we’d be home for dinner tonight.”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t tell us that you found our missing brother, and then expect us to sit on our thumbs while we wait half a day to see him.”

“That’s  _ exactly _ what I expect,” Hoynes countered. “For God’s sake, it was only a few more hours.”

“Oh yeah?” Jamie said, hands planted on hips. “And how long did  _ you _ wait to see him once  _ you _ found out?”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Hoynes said. “I’m your father.”

Jake and Jamie gave each other a knowing look, Jamie rolling his eyes.

“All right, you menaces,” Hoynes said. “Come give your old man a hug.”

Jake moved forward, accepting Hoynes’ hug before stepping aside to make room for Jamie.

“Dad?” Jamie asked, stepping back from his father’s hug.

“Yes, Jamie?” Hoynes replied.

“Mom said that Charlie- that Sam isn’t telling anyone about us yet,” Jamie stated. “He wants to keep it quiet for now?”

“That’s right,” Hoynes confirmed.

“Why?” Jake asked.

Hoynes gave a weary sigh and moved to sit behind his desk. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. “Something tells me that there might be more to the story than he’s letting on, but now isn’t the time to push him on it. Let’s just respect his wishes and support him in this as he gets used to the idea of being our Charlie.”

“We can do that,” Jamie said. “No problem. But a secret this big won’t  _ stay _ a secret forever. He knows that, right?”

“Knows? Yes,” Hoynes replied. “ _ Understands _ ? We’ll see.” His stern look returned. “Now: I believe your mother mentioned an errand she needed you to do?”

“Yes, sir,” Jake answered for both of them.

“Then I suggest you see to it before she gets back home from her meeting,” Hoynes ordered. “And boys? I’ll be home tonight with Sam. Try and stay out of trouble until then, all right?

* * *

Sam looked out the window of the black Chevy Suburban as the driver effortlessly navigated rush hour traffic in downtown Washington DC. He had always loved how DC appeared at dusk, with the lights just beginning to illuminate the characteristic landmarks. The view that night, however, passed by him unnoticed as his mind kept circling around to the impending meeting he was being whisked towards.

Beside him, Hoynes glanced down at Sam’s absently twisting fingers. “You don’t need to be so nervous, you know.”

“Hmm?” Sam turned away from the window, his expression quizzical.

Hoynes nodded at his fingers. Sam glanced down and immediately separated the tangled knot they had become.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Hoynes repeated. “Your brothers are very excited to meet you. So excited, in fact, that they tried to sneak into your office earlier today to meet you.”

Sam’s gaze snapped back to Hoynes, his eyes wide. “ _ What _ ?”

Hoynes chuckled. “Your mother told them not to. Of course, the first thing they did the minute they were left unsupervised was to come straight to the White House. You had your meeting with those lobbyists, or you would have seen them wandering about.”

Sam slowly shook his head, unable to make sense of the action. “ _ Why _ ?”

The Suburban slowed as it turned onto the driveway, rolling to a smooth stop in front of the three-story residence.

Hoynes nodded and pointed out the window. “Like I said; they’re very excited to meet you.”

Sam turned his head and saw two young men standing on the large front porch, eyes glued to the Suburban. Sam felt his nerves jump in his throat at the sight.

Hoynes gently patted Sam’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he assured Sam. “Come on.”

As if on cue, the door was pulled open. Sam blinked up at Elliot, who was standing beside the car door with an encouraging smile on his face. Taking a deep breath, Sam climbed out of the car.

Jake and Jamie immediately started walking towards him. Sam tensed up as Hoynes moved to stand beside him, offering Sam some measure of comfort.

“Boys.” Hoynes’ tone was a warning. “Does your mother know you’re both out here waiting to ambush us?”

Jake merely grinned. “Who do you think sent us out here?”

“She said something about us getting under foot,” Jamie added.

“From under  _ her _ foot to mine, I see,” Hoynes said sardonically. He turned to Sam. “Well, Sam, I  _ had _ hoped to introduce you to a couple of well-reared young men, but I suppose these two will have to do.”

Sam allowed himself a nervous chuckle as Hoynes beckoned Jake forward.

“Sam, this is Jake,” their father introduced. “Jake, this is your brother Sam.”

Sam reflexively offered his hand to Jake. Jake took the hand in a firm grip, then used it to pull Sam into his arms in a fierce embrace.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Jake whispered.

Sam returned the embrace more out of surprise than anything else. No sooner had Jake moved back did his other brother step forward, grinning with excitement.

“I’m Jamie,” he announced before pulling Sam into another hug.

Sam withdrew from the hug and glanced between Jake and Jamie, eyes taking note of their similarities and idly wondering if he, too, shared those characteristics. “Hi,” he said, almost shyly. “I’m Sam S-. Sam. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re so polite,” Jamie commented. “That won’t do at all.”

“I’m pretty sure Mom will kill you if you undo that particular home training,” Jake told Jamie. “You know how she’s always after you to show some manners.”

“ _ Me _ ?” Jamie retorted. “That’s some selective memory you’ve got going there.  _ I _ wasn’t the one that asked for a burger at that dinner with the governor of Texas last year.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a good burger,” Jake said haughtily.

“Of course not,” Sam chimed in, unable to help himself. “It’s the epitome of haute cuisine.”

The dry sarcasm froze the brewing spat in its tracks. Jake blinked at Sam in shock as Jamie burst into laughter.

“Oh, I like you,” he said between chuckles. “Come on, let’s head inside before we turn into icicles. Mom’s making her pot roast, did you know?”

“She’s going all out,” Jake added as the boys gently tugged Sam into the house. “I hope you brought an appetite.”

As they chattered, Hoynes followed his sons into the house with a wide, contented grin.

Sam was immediately struck by a mouth-watering smell the minute he set foot in the house. He glanced around the room, taking note of the simple yet elegant furnishing, wondering what changes were still to come as Hoynes and Suzanne settled into the residence.

He let himself be steered deeper into the house by his brothers, their words washing over him. Hey descended a set of stairs, passing by a dining room and arriving in a large kitchen where Suzanne was just pulling out a roasting pan from the oven.

“They’re here!” Jamie announced.

Suzanne set the pan on top of the stove and set her pot holders aside. “So I see,” she stated with a smile. She moved to Sam first, greeting him with a tight hug, then moved past him to give her husband a peck.

“Smells amazing,” Hoynes murmured. “Need a hand?”

“If I needed a hand, I would’ve kept the staff,” Suzanne replied. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go and get changed? The roast will be ready to slice when you get back.”

Hoynes’ eyes strayed to her sons, who had wandered further into the kitchen to poke at the dishes waiting to be served. He lingered on Sam, who was nodding at something Jake was telling him.

Suzanne gently squeezed Hoynes’ arm, a knowing smile on her face. “Go on,” she urged. “He’ll still be here when you get back.”

Hoynes smiled ruefully, giving his wife another kiss before slipping out of the kitchen.

“Boys,” Suzanne announced, their attention shifting to her immediately. “You’re just in time to set the table. Jake, can you handle our drinks? Or do you and Jamie need to take a quick detour by the Smithsonian first?”

Sam was intrigued at the sudden flush of embarrassment on both Jamie and Jake’s faces as they mumbled a denial at Suzanne. He wondered at what triggered their reaction, but ultimately dismissed it as no explanation was forthcoming.

Jamie tugged Sam over to a cabinet and began to stack plates in his arms, then piled cloth napkins on top. “So Mom said you grew up in California?”

“Uh, yes,” Sam answered, watching as Jamie collected cutlery for all of them.

“And you moved to the East Coast  _ on purpose _ ?” Jamie pressed, leading Sam into the dining room.

“What’s wrong with the East Coast?” Sam asked, setting plates down where he was directed before folding napkins.

“Nothing,” Jamie replied. “But I can’t see a California boy appreciating the cold and wet temperatures of DC.”

“I guess I appreciate it about as much as a  _ Texas _ boy,” Sam shot back.

Jamie grinned broadly, setting out the silverware on the napkins. “Touché,” he replied easily. “But to be fair, I live in Tennessee.”

“Your parents live here,” Sam pointed out.

Jamie paused ever-so-slightly, then continued laying out the cutlery. “‘Our’ parents,” he corrected gently.

Sam blushed at the slip. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

Jamie looked up at him. “Still sinking in, huh?” he asked sympathetically.

Sam gave him a grateful grin. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Jake appeared, carrying two glasses of wine to the table. Jamie’s eyes flickered to him, then back to Sam.

“The other shoe is that you’re stuck with Jake for a brother,” Jamie told Sam with a teasing grin.

“Hey, I’m a  _ great _ brother,” Jake retorted, setting the glasses down. “I beat up all the bullies who picked on you.”

The three of them headed back into the kitchen. “What about Tiffany?” Jamie asked, handing Sam a bowl of green beans before picking up one with carrots and potatoes.

Jake grabbed the remaining three glasses. “What  _ about _ Tiffany?”

“She picked on me,” Jamie said as they returned to the dining room.

Jake snorted. “She picked on you because she liked you and was trying to get you to ask her out.” He set the glasses on the table and looked at Sam. “He never notices when women are interested in him,” he told Sam in a mock whisper.

Sam huffed a laugh. “I don’t exactly have a leg to stand on there,” he admitted. “Lisa practically had to draw it out for me that she wanted to go on a date with me.”

Both boys perked up at the unexpected tidbit.

“Lisa?” Jamie asked. “Who is she? A girlfriend?”

Sam winced. “Fiancée. Ex-fiancée, actually. She was happy to be the wife of a lawyer who made partner in New York City’s second largest law firm. She was less than happy to be the wife of an untried speechwriter for an underdog political campaign.”

There was a wealth of emotion behind the matter-of-fact delivery that told Jake and Jamie that there was more to the story, but neither brother wanted to push Sam on it.

“So what made you decide to switch from law to speechwriting?” Jake asked, shifting their conversation slightly.

“Um, Josh, actually,” Sam answered with a fond smile. “Josh Lyman. Do you know him?”

“We’ve met a few times,” Jamie answered before Jake could.

“I met Josh back when I was interning as a congressional aide,” Sam told them. “We hit it off and have been best friends ever since. He knew of an opening on President Bartlet’s campaign and came and got me. We had always talked about making a difference in people’s lives, and he knew that I had . . . I guess,  _ settled _ with corporate law.”

“Sounds like we have a budding politician on our hands,” Jake commented as they walked back to the kitchen.

Hoynes had returned at this point, clad in worn jeans and an SMU sweatshirt and looking so much like a ‘dad’ that Sam was momentarily taken aback. Hoynes was slicing through the pot roast and laying the meat on a serving platter, but at their entrance, he glanced up.

“Budding politician?” he echoed, a light twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Do I have some competition at the office?”

“Not in the slightest,” Sam assured him as Jake and Jamie delivered the final dishes to the dining room.

Hoynes set aside the knife and fork in his hands and lifted the platter. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he told Sam. “You’ve got the passion and the know-how. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to see you in Congress one day, or even in the White House.”

Sam blushed furiously, following Hoynes back into the dining room.

Suzanne was busy directing Jamie and Jake to move dishes around to make room for the platter of roast Hoynes was bringing. Sam hesitated a few feet away, taking in the ease in which everyone moved around one another. He didn’t have time to feel awkward or out of place as Jake moved to his side, slinging an arm around Sam’s shoulders and leading him to his seat at the table.

Plates were passed around the table, calls for different dishes bouncing around the dishes. Sam joined in the melee effortlessly, smiling and needling Jamie about the mountain of potatoes heaped on his plate.

Once the flurry of movement had eased and everyone had settled into their seats, everyone’s eyes unerringly searched out Hoynes at the head of the table. Hoynes took his wine glass and held it up to his family.

“Words cannot express the joy and gratitude I feel and seeing my wife and all  _ three _ of our sons seated at the table,” he stated. “May this meal be a first of many to come for our family.”

“Hear hear,” Jamie agreed, hefting his glass and taking a sip.

As everyone finished toasting, Hoynes set his glass aside and looked at Sam. “Sam, I’d like to apologize in advance for the interrogation that’s about to happen.”

Sam let out a startled laugh. “I think I can handle a few questions.”

Hoynes shrugged, picking up his knife and fork to cut into his food. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sure enough, as soon as Sam had taken the first bite of what had to be the best pot roast he had ever tasted, the questions began to roll in. From school to work, from childhood friends to ex-girlfriends, there was a never-ending deluge of inquiries.

Strangely, rather than feel overwhelmed and intimidated, Sam matched his family question for question, intent on learning as much about them as they did about him. It was an entirely new experience for Sam, feeling simultaneously like an outsider and as if he’d always been a part of the family, and he found himself yearning for more.

By the time dessert had been finished and coffee consumed, Sam was shocked to find how late it had gotten. To his even greater surprise, he felt reluctant to leave the warmth of their family dinner.

“I hate to stop here, but I should be getting back to my apartment,” Sam announced at the next lull in conversation.

“My goodness, I had no idea how late it was!” Suzanne exclaimed after a glance at the clock on the wall.

“Let’s meet up tomorrow,” Jamie told Sam. “We can hang out, maybe see if the Wizards are playing.”

It was a very tempting offer. “I don’t know,” Sam hedged. “I still have a lot of work to do . . .”

“It’s the  _ weekend _ , Sam,” Jake insisted. “Just a few hours. Work will still be there.”

“All right,” Sam agreed with a bashful smile, standing.

“Great!” Jamie leapt to his feet and pulled Sam into a hug. “We’ll come by and pick you up at nine.”

Sam was pulled into another hug by Jake, who then stepped back to make room for Suzanne.

“Um . . . thank you for inviting me,” Sam said awkwardly. “Everything was great.”

Suzanne tugged Sam down into a fierce hug. “I’m so glad you came,” she said. She drew Sam back to meet his eyes. “You can join us  _ any _ time. You never have to ask. You hear?”

Sam nodded as Hoynes laid a gentle hand on his back.

“Secret Service is bringing the car around,” Hoynes told him. “They’ll take you home tonight. Come on; I’ll walk you to the door.”

The two men headed down the hall in a companionable silence for a moment.

Hoynes glanced at Sam. “So . . . was it as bad as you thought?”

Sam laughed lightly. “Not at all. Actually, I had a great time. I’ve never had a family dinner like that before. Is it always like that?”

The comment was odd; Hoynes smothered his confusion. “Pretty much. Your family dinners weren’t quite so boisterous?”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Not even close. Usually it was just me and my mo-.” He abruptly cut himself off.

“It’s okay to call her that, you know,” Hoynes said quietly. “She  _ was _ your mother growing up.”

Sam shrugged. “Dinners were just the two of us,” he said, ducking around the comment entirely. “She never really talked much; just read the paper or watched TV. She only talked when d- . . . when Norman was there. Dinner with my uncle or my grandparents was even more stuff; I was usually the only kid, so I never had anyone else to talk to.”

That made Hoynes unaccountably saddened. He shoved it aside in an effort to keep their conversation light. “Dinner has always been a way for me and Suzanne to check in with the boys to see how they were doing. It was like that for my folks too.”

They stopped at the door, Hoynes turning to face Sam fully.

“What Suzanne told you goes double for me,” he told Sam. “You are always welcome in this house, any time, day or night. If you need a place to crash, or just to hang out; this is your home too. I’m pretty sure Suzanne wanted to issue a standing order for you to come home for dinner every night, but not even  _ I _ can always obey that one. Just . . . we wanted you to know that. Okay?”

Sam nodded, a smile fixed on his face.

Outside, both of them could see the Secret Service pulling the car up through the frosted glass windows. Hoynes reached out and pulled Sam into his arms, holding him tight.

Sam felt himself melt into the embrace, his face pressed into the soft material of Hoynes’ sweatshirt.

“Thanks for coming,” Hoynes said softly into his hair. “I know how worried you were about this.”

Sam withdrew from the hug. “Thanks for having me,” he replied sincerely. “And for being patient with me. It can’t be easy.”

Hoynes dropped a hand on the back of Sam’s neck and squeezed. “You  _ never _ have to thank me for that,” he said seriously. “You’re my son.”

The warmth of that simple statement stayed with Sam for the entire ride back to his apartment. It remained with him through Elliot’s quick search of his apartment, aided by his team. A part of Sam marveled at the feeling; he had spent so much time trying to win Norman Seaborn’s love and attention as a child, and John Hoynes was just lavishing him with it. Sam spared a thought for Josh, and Josh’s affection for his late father. He wondered if this was how Josh had felt growing up,; if so, Sam envied him.

A blinking light on his answering machine caught his attention on his way to his bedroom. Sam pressed play, his mind only half on the action.

The sound of Chris Winters’ voice filled the room, popping the euphoric bubble Sam and been carrying since dinner.

“Samuel,” came the foreboding tone. “You will present yourself in my office on Monday. Do  _ not _ make me track you down.”

And just like that, reality crashed down on Sam.

* * *

end chapter 4


	5. Chapter Five

_ Monday, February 2 _

The cloud of doom that hovered over Sam was no match for the brilliance of Jake and Jamie’s excitement at spending time with him. What had started as a few hours catching a basketball game had morphed into a movie and pizza, with his brothers camping out in his apartment overnight. On Sunday, the three of them met up with Hoynes and Suzanne for brunch, then all of them had returned to Observatory Circle to spend time together. It wasn’t until after a pleasant Sunday dinner, when Sam had returned home, that he recalled Winters’ message. He didn’t know why Winters wanted to speak to him, but his overactive imagination couldn’t help but generate a list of possibilities.

Fortunately, Sam didn’t have time to dwell on his impending meeting. No sooner had he arrived at work did Hoynes arrive at his door for their now-regular breakfast. Though it had only been a handful of days since the truth had come out, Sam found himself looking forward to spending time with a man who had already done more to show him what a father should be than the man who had raised him.

Flushed with exhilaration at their most recent debate, Sam hurried through the halls and back to his office for his notes on health care. Quickly grabbing what he needed, he rushed into Toby’s office, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot.

Toby was standing beside his desk, watching the latest news bulletin on the television. At Sam’s entrance, he turned his attention to the younger man, taking in his slightly disheveled appearance as Sam set up camp on the sofa. “Did you sleep here again over the weekend?”

Sam’s head snapped up in surprise. “What?” he asked. “No!”

Toby’s frown deepened slightly. “Given your recent track record, you’ll forgive me for not quite believing you,” Toby told him. “You’re looking a bit rushed. Are you  _ sure _ you didn’t spend the last couple of days on my couch?”

“No, Toby, I didn’t spend the night in your office,” Sam said flatly.

“Sam-,” Toby said warningly.

“Toby, I  _ didn’t stay _ in your office!” Sam insisted. “I didn’t even work this weekend! I was too busy with . . .” he trailed off.

“With . . .” Toby prompted, drawing the word out.

“With . . . other stuff,” Sam finished lamely.

“Would this ‘stuff’ require a heads up for CJ and a visit to the White House Counsel Office?” Toby asked.

“Toby!” Sam snapped.

“What?” Toby retorted, lifting his hands out at his sides. “You’re being deliberately vague! When you do that, you’re usually hiding something, and it’s never been anything good!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Toby, it’s no big deal.”

“Then what did you do?” Toby pressed.

“ _ Nothing _ ,” Sam insisted. “I just spent the weekend with my . . . uh . . .” Seeing Toby’s unmoving gaze, Sam’s shoulders slumped. “My brothers,” he finally admitted. It sounded weird to his ears to hear it out loud.

Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “Your brothers,” he echoed. “I didn’t think you  _ had _ brothers.” He narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “This isn’t the Winters thing all over again, is it? Your brothers aren’t cabinet members, or heads of federal agencies, are they?”

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed.

“Well, what the hell am I  _ supposed _ to think?” Toby demanded. “Every time I see you, you’ve got a family member popping out of the woodwork!”

“It’s not like that!” Sam cried. “I didn’t even  _ know _ about them until last week!”

Toby idly wondered when he’d gone down the rabbit trail in his conversation with Sam. “You didn’t  _ know _ ? How did you not  _ know _ you had brothers? What, did your dad or mom have other kids before they got married or something?”

“No,” Sam replied. “They . . . I sort of . . . last week, I . . .”

Toby waited patiently.

Sam sighed. “The Secret Service’s background checks . . . they found out that . . . thatsomehowIwasthemissingHoynesbaby.”

Toby frowned at the jumble of words. “Run that by me again?”

“I . . .” Sam swallowed thickly. “I’m really . . . Charlie Hoynes?”

Toby covered his mouth, rubbing the lower half of his face as he processed the statement. “You’re Charlie Hoynes.” It wasn’t a question.

Sam nodded.

“The Secret Service found it out,” Toby stated.

Sam nodded again.

Toby’s arm dropped. “You mean to tell me that you’re the missing son of the vice president of the United States,  _ and you didn’t happen to mention it _ ?” he boomed, the words growing louder as he continued.

“Shh!” Sam frantically hushed Toby, glancing over his shoulder at the bullpen to make sure no one had heard him. “I haven’t exactly told people about it yet!”

Toby’s disbelief pushed his eyebrows up. “What? Why the hell not?”

“I’m not . . . I’m not ready yet,” Sam admitted.

“Who else knows?” Toby asked.

“The president,” Sam answered. “Mrs. Bartlet. Zoey. Um . . Leo. The vice president, of course.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “‘Of course’ he says,” he muttered. His eyes flickered over Sam’s shoulder and into the bullpen. “I guess that explains the Secret Service’s presence, then.”

Sam jerked in surprise. “You  _ knew _ they were  _ there _ ?”

“You  _ didn’t _ ?” Toby scoffed and shook his head. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you notice a six-and-a-half foot man, built like a brick house, who  _ never once attended a staff meeting _ but had a desk in our bullpen?”

Sam avoided Toby’s gaze. “He blends in really well.”

Toby let that one go. “How long have you known?”

“Since Wednesday evening,” Sam replied as Toby moved to sit behind his desk. “We were talking about the welfare thing, and the president asked to see me?”

Toby nodded, recalling the moment. “How did Hoynes take the news?”

Sam shrugged. “I guess, about how you’d expect,” he answered. “Leo and Agent Butterfield told him. I don’t know how he reacted then, but by the time I saw him, he was pretty convinced.”

“You weren’t?” Toby asked, his voice soft.

“Would  _ you _ be?” Sam asked, eyes searching the room. “There’s never been any  _ hint _ in my entire life that I  _ wasn’t _ the son of Norman and Chelsea Seaborn.” His eyes dropped to his hands in his lap. “Even  _ with _ the DNA tests proving it, it  _ still _ feels like it’s not quite real.”

“What do your parents have to say?” Toby asked. “The other ones.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. He felt relief at finally voicing his doubts. “I can’t get a hold of them. I mean, the Secret Service told me not to try, but how can I  _ not _ ?” He shook his head. “Anyway, Agent Butterfield said that a team went to go question my mom, and that my dad is out of the country. I haven’t heard more than that.”

Toby nodded, his mind whirring. “So what happens in the meantime?”

Sam shrugged again. “I guess I’m just taking it one day at a time. John, uh . . . the vice president . . . he’s been really good about it. He hasn’t really pushed me on anything since we found out, and he’s actually been spending time with me during breakfast.”

Toby lifted an eyebrow. “Imagine that,” he commented.

Sam gave him a dirty look.

“So, you spent time this weekend with your brothers?” Toby continued.

Sam’s expression softened immediately, a shy smile growing on his face. “Yeah,” he replied. “I met them Friday night; John and Suzanne invited me over to dinner.”

“How was it?” Toby asked.

“It was . . . really great,” Sam admitted.

“You sound surprised,” Toby observed.

“I guess I am,” Sam replied. “It wasn’t at all what I expected. It was . . . fun.”

Toby grunted. “I’m glad you’re handling this so well. When are you planning on telling everyone else? I assume there’s a plan in place?”

Sam hesitated, his eyes shifting away from Toby.

Toby frowned. “Sam!” he barked.

Sam held his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know,” he said. “I  _ will _ , I just . . . I’m not ready yet. It’s so big . . .”

“It is, which is why CJ and Josh will be pissed off if they find out about it from someone else,” Toby pointed out.

“I’ll tell them, I promise,” Sam said. A worried look crossed his face. “You won’t say anything, will you?”

Toby heaved a heavy sigh. “No, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Sam said in relief.

“ _ However _ ,” Toby added, “I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when this situation inevitably blows up in your face.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Well, now that this episode of Maury Povich has concluded, let’s get back to that pesky little issue of national health care reform,” Toby stated.

* * *

For the second time in a week, Hoynes found himself being escorted through the halls of the Executive Residence, though this time he was able to pay more attention to the portraits and artwork that adorned the walls without the added distraction of a long-lost and newly recovered child at his side. Unbidden, thoughts of Sam’s passionate defense of health care benefits for single mothers from that morning’s debate filled his mind. Hoynes wondered if he could maneuver Sam into taking an opposing side, and how he might do as the devil’s advocate.

President Bartlet was waiting for him in the private dining room. He held a hand out to Hoynes. “John, good to see you. I’m glad you agreed to meet me for lunch.”

Hoynes shook the offered hand. “Thanks for the invitation,” he replied. “Though I admit to some surprise at receiving it.”

Bartlet gestured for him to take a seat, then sat himself. “Well, I thought it might be good for us to meet and commiserate over our kids. Besides, Abbey and Suzanne have set up a standing lunch together; we need to join forces if we have any hope of talking them down from any outrageous schemes they may dream up.”

“I admire your aim, Jed, though I don’t know how much of a chance we stand on actually being successful,” Hoynes replied.

The two chuckled as the stewards brought in their lunch. Once the food had been served, and the stewards dismissed, Bartlet picked up the conversation once more.

“So,” he said, “what’s this I hear about you arguing up a storm with my Deputy Communications Director at breakfast every morning?” 

Hoynes’ eyebrows rose. “And where did you hear that?” he asked.

“It’s not like you two were keeping very quiet,” Bartlet pointed out with a smirk. “So?”

A proud grin blossomed on Hoynes’ face. “To be honest, I wanted to spend time with him, get to know him. When he started to warm up to me, I saw an opening and took it. We seem to have fallen into finding a topic to debate; I’m really enjoying it, and I think Sam is, too.”

Bartlet’s smile was fond. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

“He’s  _ incredible _ ,” Hoynes raved, waving a fork to illustrate his point. “He’s able to sniff out the slightest weak spot in an argument and flip it back on you with evidence and statistics to back him up.” Hoynes shook his head. “He must have been a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom.”

“Oh, he still is,” Bartlet assured him. “I’ll never forget the first time I really noticed it.”

“Yeah?” Hoynes prompted, eager for any piece of information about his youngest.

“It was during the campaign,” Bartlet told him. “We were in . . . Florida, I think. We were gearing up for a debate against Whitmire, and we needed someone to stand for him in our mock debate. The thing was, none of our usually guys could argue the issues we knew that Whitmire was bringing to the table. That’s when Josh suggested that we try Sam.”

“He did?” Hoynes asked. 

Bartlet nodded. “He did. And he wiped the floor with me, too, once I ordered him to. It took me three tries before I could even argue him to a stalemate.” He chuckled. “I was tempted to skip the debate altogether and just send Sam in my place. Whitmire would never have known what hit him.”

Both men chuckled at the visual that comment provoked.

Hoynes sobered as a question that had been niggling at him demanded attention once more. “Do you know much about his childhood growing up? About the people who raised him?”

“Not much,” Bartlet admitted. “He never talks about himself all that much. Why do you ask?”

“Just some things he’s let slip here and there,” Hoynes said. “There isn’t anything concrete I can point to, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s more than he’s letting on.”

“Well, if you want details, the best person to ask would be Josh,” Bartlet told him. “He knows Sam better than anyone.”

Hoynes nodded, unable to completely disguise the distaste on his face.

Bartlet chuckled lightly. “I know there’s history between you two, John, but you’re going to have to find a way to deal with it. Josh is your son’s best friend, and if there’s one thing I  _ do _ know about Sam, it’s that he’s even  _ more _ passionate in defense of those he cares about.”

He watched as Hoynes let that sink in, then switched over to a lighter topic.

“So I heard that your two oldest came back into town to meet Sam,” he said. “How did that go?”

* * *

By the time the lunch hour had come to a close, Sam had decided that he could no longer delay the inevitable. Winters was expecting him, and if he didn’t present himself in the Congressman’s office soon, there’d be hell to pay.

The Capitol Building loomed over him, tall and imposing. Sam stood on the steps, looking up at it as he tried to work up the courage to walk inside.

Elliot stood beside him, his eyes scanning the faces of the people around him. “You’re awfully nervous for a visit to the Hill. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not nervous,” Sam immediately denied.

Elliot glanced at him quickly in disbelief, then continued watching out for threats. “If you say so.”

Sam took a deep, calming breath. Bracing himself, he dutifully trudged up the stairs to the entrance.

The walk to Winters’ office was made in silence. Each step Sam took seemed to heighten his tension; by the time they reached Winters’ outer office, his stomach was doing flip-flops and his jaw was clenched so tight that he was sure he was about to crack a tooth.

Winters’ assistant recognized Sam instantly. “Mr. Seaborn,” she stated. “Congressman Winters is expecting you. You can go right in.”

Sam gave a tight nod and took all of two steps before the assistant’s voice stopped him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but only Mr. Seaborn is permitted to enter.”

Sam glanced back in surprise. The rest of his detail had spread out around the perimeter of the outer office, but Elliot hadn’t left his side. At the assistant’s words, the former SEAL turned and frowned at her.

“I’m sorry, miss, but he doesn’t leave my sight,” Elliot told her.

The assistant was unmoved. “No sir; Congressman Winters’ orders were very clear. He wanted to see Mr. Seaborn, and Mr. Seaborn only.”

Elliot opened his mouth to challenge the statement, but Sam cut in quickly.

“It’s fine,” he told Elliot. “I’ll be fine. This is the only entrance to the office, and I’ve been alone with him before. What could happen?”

Elliot gave him a disgusted look. “You just  _ had _ to tempt fate, didn’t you?”

A flash of humor cracked through Sam’s anxiety, and he smiled.

“I’ll be right here,” Elliot told him, pointing at the floor. “If you need anything, just call or push your panic button.”

Sam saw Elliot position himself directly in the way of the entrance and shook his head, closing the door.

Winters was seated behind his desk, writing something down in a file folder. At Sam’s entrance, he didn’t even bother to look up. “Sit.”

Sam moved to one of the chairs and gingerly lowered himself into it. He was careful not to make a noise, knowing better than to disturb Winters’ train of thought.

After what felt like an eternity, Winters finally set his pen down and closed the folder. Setting the folder aside, he folded his hands on his desk and scrutinized the young man across from him.

“Have you heard from your mother recently?” he asked.

Sam felt his heart leap into his throat. “Not . . not since she called and left a message last week,” he stammered.

Winters nodded, standing and moving around the desk to lean against it. Sam stared up at Winters, his body tensing at the proximity. “So you don’t happen to know what the FBI might want from her?”

Sam flinched back.

A gleam of triumph appeared in Winters’ eyes. “I thought so. Your mother called me on Friday and asked for my help. It would seem that she was picked up by the FBI and asked a number of questions. About  _ you _ .”

Sam’s eyes dropped to his knees, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

“For  _ some _ reason,” Winters continued, “the FBI seems to be under the impression that Chelsea is not your mother. Tell me, Samuel;  _ why _ would the FBI think such a thing?”

Sam lifted his chin. “I-I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, Samuel,” Winters stated, his calm tone only serving to cause Sam’s heart to race. “You know how I feel about that.”

Sam swallowed thickly. “I really don’t-.”

The blow came out of nowhere. Sam found himself flung against the arm of his chair, his cheek stinging, before realizing that Winters had backhanded him.

“Do  _ not _ lie to me, Samuel,” Winters ordered. “What is going on?”

“My background check!” Sam blurted as he straightened in his chair. He resisted the urge to touch his cheek. “Something was wrong with my birth certificate! That’s all it was; I don’t know why the FBI was involved!”

Winters stared at Sam, his icy blue gaze boring into him. It took everything in Sam not to look away.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Winters stood and moved to look out the window. Sam sagged back in relief.

“I sent the family lawyer to take care of it,” Winters announced. “Since that no good husband of hers couldn’t be bothered. Cartwright will clean this up in no time. In the meantime, however, you will keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied.

“Get out,” Winters ordered.

Sam needed no encouragement. Standing, he walked as fast as he could from the room, past Elliot and his detail, and down the hall. He ignored the calls for his name, intent on putting distance between himself and his uncle.

A gentle hand took his elbow and moved him down a side hallway. Elliot hovered over Sam, his bulk blocking the exit. Rather than feel trapped, Sam felt shielded from any potential hazards.

“What happened?” Elliot demanded. “You took off so fast . . .” He trailed off, his eyes zeroing in on Sam’s face.

Sam calmed his racing heart. “Everything’s fine,” he assured Elliot.

Elliot lifted a hand towards Sam’s face. Sam was unable to control his flinch at the move. Freezing for a brief moment, Elliot gently turned Sam’s chin to the side to get a closer look at his face.”

“Did he hit you?” he practically growled.

“No.” Sam didn’t even have to think about his response.

Elliot lowered his hand. “Then how did you get that red mark on your face?”

“I fell,” Sam replied. “You’ve seen how clumsy I can be.”

Elliot was not amused. “Sam, if he hit you-.”

“He didn’t,” Sam cut him off. “I  _ told _ you, I fell. I’m fine. Just leave it.”

He didn’t give Elliot a chance to argue further, pushing past him and storming off down the hall. Elliot immediately followed after him, but made a mental note to take a closer look at Chris Winters.

* * *

Sam welcomed the chaotic atmosphere of the West Wing like an old friend, allowing the memory of Winters’ disapproval to be swept away in its wake. The minute he stepped past security, Cathay appeared beside him, easily keeping pace with her boss’ brisk stride.

“Sam, the Citizen’s Climate Lobby returned your call,” she told him. “I set up a meeting with them the day after tomorrow for you in the Roosevelt room. CJ also told me to tell you that she wants to meet to go over the latest reports on health care.”

Sam paused just outside his office door, frowning in confusion. “What reports?”

Cathay shrugged, continuing on down the hall. “The ones CJ has.”

Sam shook his head, making a mental note to check in with CJ as he moved to his desk and rifled through his outbox for the folder he needed. Finding it, he headed back into the bullpen and started towards Leo’s office.

Josh suddenly appeared at his side, startling him. “Cathy said you went to the Hill.”

“I did,” Sam confirmed.

“Was it to see your uncle?” Josh asked. “What did he say?”

“It  _ was _ to see my uncle,” Sam replied. “But it  _ wasn’t _ about 286. It was . . . personal.”

Josh put a hand on Sam’s arm, both of them stopping in the middle of the hall. “Sam! You’re killing me here! When is Winters’ meeting with President Bartlet scheduled?”

“I haven’t heard,” Sam answered. “Go and ask Mrs. Landingham if you’re that impatient. Or have Donna do it. But  _ don’t _ pester Uncle Chris about it; if you do, chances are he’ll stall just to spite you.”

“Good advice,” Josh agreed. “I’ll swing by the Oval now. Sam; whatever he wants, he gets. Let’s not do anything to rock the boat, okay?”

With an energetic pat on the back, Josh headed down the hall. Sam frowned after him, concerned at how much Josh was willing to bend to get Winters’ support. Shaking it off, he continued on to Leo’s office.

Leo glanced up from some files on his desk at Sam’s knock, then waved him in. Sam passed him the folder he carried.

“Here’s the main position statement for the president on the abortion thing,” Sam told him.

Leo took the folder and opened it, giving the report inside a quick scan. “Thanks, Sam. Oh- Sam?”

Sam, who had been about to leave, paused. “Yeah?”

“You doing okay?” Leo asked.

Sam nodded. “I’m fine, Leo.”

Leo set the folder aside in favor of giving Sam his full attention. “Lot of changes happening,” he observed. “I’m not sure  _ I’d _ be ‘fine’.”

“It  _ is _ a lot,” Sam agreed. “But, really, John’s been great about it. He’s not at all what I expected.”

“How so?” Leo asked, curious.

Before Sam could answer, there was a knock on the door connected to the Oval Office. The door opened, and Bartlet stepped through.

“Leo-.” He paused whatever he had been about to say when he realized that Leo was not alone. “Oh, Sam; hello. Am I interrupting?”

“No, sir,” Sam replied.

“Ron Butterfield is in my office with an update on the case,” Bartlet told them. “John’s just arrived. I’m glad I found you here, Sam; I’ll let the Secret Service know to stop looking for you. Would you join us next door?”

Sam obediently followed Bartlet into the Oval Office, Leo right behind him.

Hoynes and Butterfield were seated on the couches in the office, waiting patiently to begin their meeting. The minute Hoynes’ eyes fell on Sam, he smiled brightly, but Sam didn’t miss it faltering once Hoynes’ eyes moved to the fading red mark on his cheek. To his credit, Hoynes didn’t say anything about it.

Sam took a seat beside Hoynes, smiling in greeting. He watched as Leo sat beside Butterfield and mused on the difference in the room’s atmosphere when compared to the last time they had all found themselves in the same positions.

Bartlet joined them moments later. “All right, Ron; what have you got for us?”

“We’ve found a way around the press, or anyone, finding out about Sam’s identity for now,” Butterfield stated. “We’ve reopened the case, but we’ve also opened a new one under the guise of investigating the discrepancy in Sam’s birth certificate. The FBI agents working with us will take the lead on it to help keep up appearances.” Butterfield fixed Sam with an intense look. “I want to stress, however, that this is only temporary, and only buys us a little more time. I strongly advise moving forward with a plan to deal with the press.”

Sam nodded reluctantly. Hoynes reached over and patted his knee.

“We understand,” the vice president said. “We appreciate the help.”

Butterfield nodded. “As you know, the FBI picked Chelsea Seaborn up for questioning. However, they were unable to get any information from her. She invoked her right to a lawyer and ultimately had to be let go.”

Sam tensed in his seat ever-so-slightly. Only Hoynes noticed, but he remained silent.

“Our team did a little more digging into her background and spoke to a few acquaintances,” Butterfield continued. “Based on what they’ve uncovered so far, Chelsea believes that Sam is her son and she doesn’t know why there’s a problem with his birth certificate.”

Unease lurched in his gut, and Sam couldn’t entirely understand why. “So maybe the DNA tests weren’t accurate after all?”

At the question, Hoynes latched onto one of Sam’s hands and held tight.

Butterfield shook his head. “The DNA tests are conclusive; you  _ are _ Charlie Hoynes. All this little wrinkle with Chelsea tells us is that someone, somewhere, knows more than they are saying.”

Relief swept through Sam as Hoynes squeezed his hand reassuringly. A small voice in the back of his mind questioned his relief, but Sam squashed it. He wasn’t ready to deal with the implications it brought just yet.

“What about her husband?” Leo asked.

“We got word to the authorities in Monaco, who agreed to work with us,” Butterfield said. “They’ve picked him and his . . .” His gaze flickered to Sam briefly. “His  _ companion _ up and are in the process of sending them back stateside.”

Sam frowned. “His companion?”

Butterfield looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Norman Seaborn did not travel to Monaco alone,” he stated. “It would seem that he was accompanied by another lawyer from his firm.”

“He was on a business trip,” Sam stated, still not understanding what Butterfield was hinting at. “That’s not unusual.”

Realization dawned on Leo’s face, followed by sympathy.

“The team spoke to the partners at Norman’s firm,” Butterfield said. “It wasn’t a business trip.”

Sam stared blankly at Butterfield. Bartlet rubbed his chin and leaned back in his chair as the news sank in.

Hoynes squeezed Sam’s hand again, but this time Sam pulled away. His gaze burned, unwavering, at Butterfield.

“Who was with him?” he demanded.

“Sarah Miles,” Butterfield answered.

Sam shook his head. “She’s a lawyer at my dad’s law firm,” he said. “I’ve known her for  _ years _ . They  _ work _ together. She’s been to my  _ house _ .”

“Sam-,” Leo started.

Sam was beyond listening at this point. His memories of his father replayed themselves before his eyes, his vision of a happy family crashing down around him. The parents he thought he knew, the lies they’d been living . . . suddenly it was too much.

He jumped to his feet and muttered an excuse before tearing out of the Oval Office. Darting blindly through the halls and ignoring the staffers around him, Sam didn’t stop until he reached his office. He shut the door and closed the blinds, hiding himself away.

The ensuing silence only seemed to make the memories that much louder. Sam stared blankly at his desk, his mind revisiting scenes from his childhood behind a new lens.

His father, hosting a Christmas party and spending most of it talking to Aunt Sarah . . .

His mother, telling him how long she was in labor with him, so he could give her five minutes to talk . . .

His father, apologizing for missing his first band concert because of a business trip to Mexico with Aunt Sarah . . .

His mother, telling him if he would just work harder, then his father would  _ want _ to spend more time with him . . .

Norman, so many times, saying he was too busy to help Sam right then . . .

Chelsea, always insisting it was Sam’s fault that Norman was gone so often . . .

Rage swelled in Sam’s gut. He reached out and grabbed the nearest object and flung it as hard as he could.

A thick book sailed through the air, crashing into the awards and paraphernalia sitting in the bookshelf opposite him. A loud clatter filled the air, and several objects fell to the floor. Sam stared at them, his chest heaving with sharp gasps of air.

A gentle knock on the door broke through the swirling emotions in Sam. The door opened, and Toby stepped inside. He sized up his deputy, took in the mess on the floor, then closed the door. He leaned against it and folded his arms.

Sam turned his head slightly in Toby’s direction but didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Did I say anything?” Toby asked.

Sam let out a huff and ran his hand through his hair. “Have you ever been so  _ sure _ about something? So confident in what you knew, only to have it all turn out to be something so completely different?”

“Sure,” Toby replied.

Sam finally looked at him, wide-eyed in surprise.

“Maybe not to the degree  _ you’re _ dealing with right now, but nothing is ever completely as it seems,” Toby amended.

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I had this vision of my family,” he said wearily, his anger draining rapidly out of him. “I was one of the only kids in my class growing up whose parents were still happily married. My mom worked for a charity organization and was always involved in my school’s PTA. My dad was this amazing lawyer, and I wanted  _ so much _ to make him proud of me.”

Toby remained silent as the words spilled out of Sam.

Sam moved to one of his visitor’s chairs and sank into it. “Now I find out that my parents aren’t actually my parents, and may have helped kidnap me, and that, while still married, my dad may have been having an affair for years. What  _ else _ have I missed? Is one of them really the head of an international crime syndicate?  _ God _ .” He leaned forward and covered his face. “My whole life is one big  _ lie _ .”

Toby stepped forward, moving to be within Sam’s line of sight as Sam lifted his head. “Most of it, maybe,” he said. “Not all of it. The parts that are all you might have been misled, but they aren’t  _ lies _ . The choices your parents made are  _ their _ choices. Don’t let  _ their _ actions define  _ you _ . Only  _ you _ can do that.”

Sam met his gaze, hope blossoming in his chest.

Another knock interrupted them, and Hoynes poked his head inside.

“Sam?” he said gently. “I wanted to make sure-.” He stepped inside, then froze once his eyes landed on Toby.

“It’s okay,” Sam assured him. “Toby knows. About . . . you know.”

The surprise on Hoynes’ face rapidly gave way to pleasure. “He does? You told him?”

“It wasn’t so much that he told me as much as it was a fit of verbal diarrhea,” Toby stated. “But yes, he told me.”

Sam stood and took a step to move towards Hoynes, but his foot caught on one of the many stacks of books and he tripped. Only Hoynes’ quick reflexes saved him from landing on the ground at Hoynes’ feet. Hoynes’ hands held him steady until he regained his footing.

Toby was completely unsurprised at the clumsy move. “And, sir, may I say, Mazel Tov; it’s a klutz.”

Hoynes let out a startled laugh at the unexpected joke. Sam’s glare rolled right over Toby, no more threatening than that of an angry kitten.

“I came by to make sure you were all right,” Hoynes told Sam. “And to fill you in on the rest of Agent Butterfield’s report, if you want.”

Sam nodded. “I’d like that.”

“You’re welcome to use my office,” Toby offered. “I have a meeting soon with the Bureau of Labor and Statistics, and my office doesn’t have quite as many death traps that this one does.”

Hoynes grinned in amusement.

“You’re not funny,” Sam retorted.

Toby quirked an eyebrow. “That’s not what you told the president last week.”

“I changed my mind,” Sam replied primly.

“Thank you, Mr. Ziegler,” Hoynes cut into the banter. “We appreciate the use of your office.”

Toby nodded. “Of course, Mr. Vice President,” he replied. He turned back to Sam. “Do you think you can make it there in one piece? Or should I ask your security detail to clear the way?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

* * *

end chapter 5


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. It's really making my day to read them. It's also helping to keep me motivated to finish typing this story.

_ Wednesday, February 4 _

“. . . all set on what needs to be done on each section?” Toby finished asking his staff gathered in the Roosevelt room.

Nods and murmurs of assent answered him.

“Good,” Toby stated. “Sam and I will schedule each team accordingly. Background research will go first, position papers next, then section drafts. Unemployment, health care, welfare, and budget all come to me. Education, energy, environment, Veteran’s Affairs, and internet security, see Sam.”

A hand suddenly popped up amid the crowd. “What about 286?” Ed called out.

Sam glanced at Toby before replying. “Leave 286 to me and Josh,” he replied. “Just focus on your section for now.”

“Let’s get to work,” Toby stated, dismissing them.

As one, everyone collected their files and moved out of the room, groups forming as they left. Sam and Toby lingered, gathering their own notes.

“That’s still more groups on your list,” Toby told Sam. “You’re not going to try to stay late again, are you?”

Sam shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t think Jamie would let me. I had to promise him and Jake that we could reschedule our dinner for tonight after I stood them up last night.”

“So they’re sticking around then?” Toby asked.

Sam smiled fondly. “They both extended their stay. Don’t be surprised if they start showing up in the bullpen.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad  _ someone _ is able to get you to see sense and take it easy,” Toby stated.

“It’s weird, though,” Sam said. “I mean, no one ever cared before if I worked late. You just stayed until you got the job done.”

“Sometimes, yes,” Toby agreed. “Right before big events like the administration goals speech, likely. All the time? That’s a straight shot to ulcers and burnout. The key word here is ‘moderation’.”

Sam had a witty retort ready on his tongue, but he didn’t get the chance to release it when Josh suddenly burst into the room. “He’s here! He’s here!”

“Who’s here?” Toby demanded in concern.

“And do we need to hide you?” Sam added.

“No!” Josh rolled his eyes. “Winters is here! For his meeting with the president! I can  _ finally _ get a leg up on Hoynes! He’s been making a huge mess for me on the Hill.”

Toby glanced at Sam, who looked away.

“We haven’t heard anything about a mess,” Toby stated.

“He’s been using every spare minute he has to visit his ‘friends’ on the Hill, or call them,” Josh told them. “He has been blocking me every step of the way.” Josh turned to Sam. “You’ve  _ gotta _ help me with your uncle, man. Do whatever he wants to get him on our side so we can put 286 on the floor and show Hoynes once and for all who’s running the show.”

Sam shifted from one foot to the other, frowning. “He’s not  _ that _ bad.”

Josh scoffed. “You don’t know Hoynes like _ I _ do, trust me. The guy is so pigheaded that he’d just as soon destroy 286 before he allowed someone else to take it from him.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to get going.” He pointed at Sam. “Get the scoop from Winters tonight and call me immediately after.”

The door had barely swung closed behind Josh when Toby turned to Sam. “He’s an idiot.”

A humorless laugh bubbled out of Sam. “He’s not wrong,” he said. “He  _ has _ known John longer than me. He can’t be  _ that _ misinformed.”

“He knows Senator Hoynes, former boss,” Toby corrected. “He doesn’t know John Hoynes, dad. They’re not the same guy.”

Sam scooped his notes and folders into his arms. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Toby retorted. He checked the time. “We’ve got twenty minutes until CJ’s next press briefing. Let’s go and give her the updated list for the administration goals speech in case she gets some questions about it.”

Sam nodded and followed Toby from the room, unable to shake the niggling doubt in the back of his mind.

* * *

President Bartlet stepped into the Mural room, a jovial smile fixed on his face. Upon his entrance, Chris Winters stood and extended a hand to shake. “Mr. President, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Christopher Winters.”

Bartlet shook the proffered hand. “Likewise, Congressman. I hope you’ve been well cared for since your arrival.”

“Very, Mr. President,” Winters replied. “Your staff have been most hospitable.”

The two men took seats opposite each other in plush armchairs. “I was glad to hear that you’d be willing to work with us on getting 286 on the floor.”

“I am, of course, always happy to be of service,” Winters stated.

“So what can I do for you?” Bartlet asked.

“I know you’re a busy man,” Winters stated. “So am I, so I’ll get right to the point. 286 is an uphill battle with the opposition from Hoynes’ supporters. Spending time on this bill will take time away from the other projects my committee also needs to send to the floor.”

“And you’d like White House backing on said projects,” Bartlet surmised.

“It  _ would _ be a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Winters agreed.

Bartlet nodded contemplatively. “Sam did mention something to that effect. You know, of course, that I can’t just blindly agree without reviewing the bills in question.”

“Of course,” Winters replied. “I’m gratified to hear that Samuel passed the information along. He’s a bright boy, but he still clings to antiquated notions of decisions made without a quid pro quo.”

“It sounds like you know him well,” Bartlet observed.

For the first time in their conversation, real emotion appeared on Winters’ face. “He hasn’t told you?” he asked in surprise. 

“Told me what?” Bartlet asked.

Winters sat back slightly. “His mother is my younger sister.”

Bartlet’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “No, he never mentioned that to me. Though Sam tends to be pretty tight-lipped about his personal life.”

Winters nodded in satisfaction. “Another lesson he has had some trouble learning. Truthfully, if not for my guidance over the years, Samuel would have found himself taken advantage of and tossed aside.”

There wasn’t anything specific in Winters’ words that Bartlet could point to that suggested anything nefarious. The way they were uttered, however, sent ripples of unease through the president. He locked down the feelings and the recollections they unearthed of a hard, powerful man from his own past so he could continue the conversation.

“Well,” he said, “we are very grateful for your help. If you’ll leave some notes on those bills with my secretary, I’ll have a look at them and get an answer to you by the end of the week.”

Bartlet stood, bringing Winters to his feet. The two men shook hands, and Bartlet exited the room, distracted by thoughts of his past.

* * *

Winters walked through the corridors of the West Wing, giving an occasional imperious nod to several people. He searched the faces he passed hoping to catch sight of one in particular.

He was joined suddenly by Josh Lyman. “Good afternoon, Congressman,”

Winters favored him with a tight smile. “Hello, Josh.”

“I heard you were in the building,” Josh stated. “I hope that your meeting with President Bartlet went well.”

“It did, thank you,” Winters replied. Inspiration struck. “I was actually looking for Samuel. Do you know where I can find him?”

“I believe he’s finishing up a briefing with the president’s press secretary,” Josh answered. “I’ll take you to him.”

Josh took an abrupt turn down a hallway, leading Winters through the maze of staffers, assistants, and desks. They crossed into an office where a brunette woman was working, Josh greeting her warmly. “Hey, Carol. Are they about finished?”

“Should be, CJ’s briefing soon,” Carol replied.

Leaving Winters to wait with Carol, Josh knocked on CJ’s door and stepped inside. “Hey; Sam, could I borrow you for a few minutes?”

CJ and Sam had been standing together with their heads bent over a piece of paper with Toby standing opposite them, hands on hips. All three turned to look at Josh.

“We’re nearly done,” Sam told Josh. “Give me a minute?”

Toby waved a hand. “Nah, it’s okay. I think we’re good. Go on.”

Sam stepped around CJ to join Josh in the doorway. “What’s up?”

Josh stepped aside, revealing Winters watching them from beside Carol’s desk. “Your uncle was looking for you.”

Sam felt his heart leap into his throat, but managed to control his expression. “Uncle Chris . . . good afternoon.”

Winters nodded. “Is there someplace we can go and speak privately?”

The last thing Sam wanted was to be left alone in a room with his uncle, but before he could think of an excuse, his ever-helpful best friend spoke for him.

“You can use Sam’s office,” Josh stated.

“That would be acceptable,” Winters agreed. He gestured to the door. “After you?”

Sam tossed Josh an annoyed glare. Josh merely returned it with a significant look of his own, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sam huffed lightly and headed into the bullpen with Winters right behind him.

No one seemed to look twice as Sam led one of Congress’ more notorious members through the middle of the communications bullpen. Sam felt both relieved at not being noticed and vaguely disparate for someone to come and call him away. He couldn’t think of a single reason why Winters wanted to speak with him, and was unable to come up with a possible defense.

As Sam was closing the door to his office, he caught sight of Elliot watching him through narrowed eyes. Though his protector wouldn’t be in the room with him, San felt a little better at knowing help wasn’t far away. He shut the door and turned to face his uncle.

Winters had moved deeper into the office and was examining the bookshelves. His sharp gaze slid over the chaotic piles of books and folders covering most available surfaces, and Sam fidgeted nervously at the mess.

“What brings you here, Uncle Chris?” Sam asked, hoping to get their impending conversation over with quickly.

Winters turned to study the awards and caps that Sam had begun to place on the credenza behind his desk. “President Bartlet is going to receive notes on six bills to review that I would like White House backing on when they go to the floor.  _ You _ are going to do everything in your power to guarantee me his support on the bill to provide subsidies to orchards.”

The order was not at all what Sam was expecting. “I’ll do my best, but I think you’re grossly overestimating my influence on President Bartlet,” he stated.

Winters turned sharply at that, straddling Sam into flinching back. His foot caught on a stack of books, and he fell against the door with a loud thud.

Seconds later, Sam felt himself being pushed forward as the door opened. He regained his footing and moved aside in time for Elliot to enter the office.

Elliot glanced from Sam to Winters, then back to Sam. “Everything okay in here?

Sam nodded. “I tripped,” he said lamely, gesturing at the now disheveled pile of books on the history of educational policy at his feet. “Sorry; we’re okay.”

Elliot gave him a look telling Sam that the Secret Service agent didn’t quite believe him. Sam shook his head and waved him out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“I’m a very busy man, Samuel,” Winters said, picking up the conversation once more. “A lot of people want my time and support for their little pet projects. If President Bartlet wants my help on 286, he needs to make it worth my time and effort. A lesson I had  _ thought _ you learned already.”

Sam fought back the shudder at the memory that had been drudged up. “I can’t promise you that.”

“Then you had better think of something,” Winters told him. “Because with no White House backing on the subsidy, 286 will never get out of my committee.”

Sam skirted around the room as Winters strode from the office. No sooner had he left did Elliot return. Elliot took in his shaken charge with concern. “Sam? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sam assured him, sinking into his chair behind his desk.

Elliot folded his arms over his chest. “Pull the other one.”

The sarcasm did more to soothe Sam’s frayed nerves than the concern. “Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted. “I just got some difficult news.”

“More difficult than finding out you were abducted as a baby?” Elliot countered.

Sam’s head snapped up, startled. Elliot shrugged.

A laugh escaped Sam’s lips, the last of his tension draining from him. “I guess not, when you put it like that.”

A glimmer of amusement shone in Elliot’s eyes. “You have another hour before you have to leave if you want to meet up with your brothers on time,” he said. “However, Josh is ready and waiting to pounce the minute you’re alone; do you need me to distract him?”

Curiosity halted Sam’s immediate denial. “How?”

“I happen to know that Ms. Moss gave him a task that needed his immediate attention almost an hour ago, and that he hasn’t done it yet,” Elliot answered.

“How do you know that Donna hasn’t already figured that out?” Sam asked, amused.

“I don’t, but you only need a few minutes’ distraction to make your escape,” Elliot replied.

“We may as well get it over with now,” Sam said, grinning. “I wouldn’t put it past him to show up at my door in the middle of the night if I don’t talk to him now.”

Elliot nodded and slipped out the door. Seconds later, Josh came bursting into the office, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Well?” he demanded.

Sam took a deep breath, bracing himself.

* * *

end chapter 6


	7. Chapter Seven

_ Thursday, February 5 _

“. . . Fitzgerald, and Hoffman. That’s  _ five _ more votes on our side, but  _ only _ if Winters votes our way.”

Josh was on the edge of his seat in Leo’s office, his head turning to meet the eyes of everyone in the room. The senior staff meeting had been going on for forty-five minutes, and so far Josh had spent the last forty of those minutes recounting the status of his ongoing feud with Hoynes over 286. With each passing moment, Sam was finding it more and more difficult to tune out his best friend’s rants about the man he was slowly coming to see as his father.

“. . . might have nabbed Porter and Aimes, but apparently Hoynes had been by to visit them yesterday and managed to get their votes,” Josh continued. “Leo, something needs to be done! Hoynes is getting out of hand, stalling us at every turn!”

“You knew his position on 286 when you started this,” Toby broke in. “You can’t be surprised by his actions. It’s not like he’s doing this to screw you over. It isn’t personal.

“Of  _ course _ it’s personal!” Josh argued. “Why  _ else _ would he keep blocking us?” He turned to Sam, who straightened at the sudden attention. “Sam, you need to work on your uncle. We need him with us on this.”

Sam frowned. “I already got him to consider 286,  _ and _ got him the meeting he wanted with the president. What more do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know; he’s  _ your _ uncle,” Josh replied, his hands waving about. “Think of something!”

Sam shrugged helplessly. “It depends on what President Bartlet decides to do about those bills he sent over. I can’t do anything until then.”

“So?” Josh said, glancing at Leo. “If he wants the support, just give it to him.”

“Josh-,” Leo started.

“What?” Josh interrupted. “We want 286, and Winters can give it to us. Unless he wants to pass laws to marginalize groups of people or make it legal to deal cocaine, what’s the problem?”

“Do we know what these bills are?” CJ asked.

“They were delivered yesterday evening,” Leo answered. He reached for a folder on the other side of his desk and flipped it open. “I have a meeting with the president later today to go over them with him. They sent 5301 on increasing minimum wage by fifty cents . . .”

“Sold!” Josh called.

Leo shot him a warning look before continuing. “There’s 921 on decriminalizing marijuana nationally, but not legalizing it. 523, which raises taxes to fund specialized military operations; 2398 on health care benefits for dependents-.”

“We’ve already got that one on the list to get behind,” Toby said.

Leo nodded, setting that paper aside. “1002 on raising subsidies for orchard farmers, and then 494 on regulating fuel consumption.”

“Those don’t sound  _ too _ bad,” CJ observed.

Toby was frowning slightly. “Increased subsidies on  _ orchards _ ? By how much?”

“Enough that I doubt the president will agree to support it,” Leo replied.

Sam went rigid in his seat. “What? Why not?”

“The way the bill is written, the increase would only benefit a very small percentage of eligible farmers at the expense of the taxpayers,” Leo said. “Not enough farmers to make it worth the cost.”

“We push legislation all the time that benefits small groups of people,” Sam countered. “What makes this one any different?”

“Not quite  _ this _ small,” Leo said. “Have you read the bill?”

“Well, no,” Sam admitted.

“I have, and I know the president,” Leo stated. “He’s not going to support this one.”

“He  _ has _ to!” Sam insisted, feeling hints of panic at the edges of his mind. “Can’t you convince him?”

Toby leveled an assessing gaze on his deputy. “Why are you so worked up about it? It’s  _ one _ bill.”

Sam reared back, forcing himself to calm down. “I-I’m not,” he replied. “I just . . .” He glanced around at the confused and concerned looks turned his way. “What if my uncle decides to withhold his support on 286 because President Bartlet chose not to back all six bills?”

With that, Sam knew he had Josh on his side. Sure enough, Josh’s gaze swung to Leo.

“That’s a good point, Leo,” he said. “Why risk it?”

“ _ One _ bill? For  _ six _ ?” Toby shook his head. “Do we  _ really _ want to appear desperate for Winters’ support?”

“We’re not desperate,” Josh denied.

Toby turned a stern look on him. “What else would you call practically whoring Sam out for favors from him?”

“Hey!” Josh and Sam’s voices blended into one cry of indignation.

“All right!” Leo called. “That’s enough of that!” He glanced between Josh and Sam. “I’ll talk to the president, but I can’t give you any guarantees. Now, we’ve spent enough time on 286, don’t you think?” He turned to Toby. “Where are we on the meeting with the Energy Secretary?”

* * *

The mess of folders and papers seemed to have migrated from Sam’s office to Toby’s since Sam had joined him in outlining the administration goals speech. They were standing beside a whiteboard that they had moved into the office and were surrounded by empty coffee cups, pencils, files, and two open laptops as they argued over the order of the topics that needed to be covered.

“You can’t put education before employment,” Toby said, erasing the word ‘edu’ from the board and writing it below ‘jobs’.

“Why not?” Sam demanded. He gestured at the board with his own marker. “The segue from economic reform makes sense if we follow it with education.”

“The latest polling data shows a higher public interest in employment than in education,” Toby said.

“It’s only higher because, statistically speaking, more Americans have  _ jobs _ than they do  _ children _ ,” Sam pointed out.

“All the more reason to put employment first,” Toby said. “Besides, we need to move employment before education so that the highest polled topics aren’t back to back.”

“Economic reform is a high interest topic,” Sam replied. “Isn’t that what we’re doing by moving employment right after it?”

“Not if we put veteran care between economic reform and employment,” Toby said, scribbling ‘vet’ on the board.

“We can’t do that,” Sam argued. “Veteran care is a part of health care, and we have that at the end.”

“It’s also a part of employment,” Toby said, pointing to the corresponding word on the board. “ _ And _ education. It doesn’t matter where we put it.”

“It matters to the transitional flow,” Sam insisted.

“We can make it flow,” Toby assured him. “That’s not the problem.”

“What  _ is _ the problem?” Sam asked as he wiped the word ‘vet’ from next to ‘health’ on the board.

A knock interrupted their discussion. Toby and Sam turned to face the door as Josh leaned in, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Sam.

“Hey, I just spoke to Leo,” he said. “He managed to talk the president around on supporting most of the bills.”

Sam had a sinking feeling in his gut. “‘Most’?”

Josh nodded. “Yeah, the president said no to the subsidy increase. It’s like Leo said; it’s not worth the money for what it’s meant to do.”

Sam felt a sort of numbness overtake him. “Are you  _ sure _ ?”

Toby gave him a considering look.

Josh nodded again. “Unfortunately. I need you to go see Winters and let him know; do you think you can head over tomorrow?”

Sam moved his head in a jerky nod.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay with it, since we’re going to back the other five,” Josh continued. “Still, I’m going to need you to really push that as a good thing, okay? Thanks, buddy; you’re the best!”

Toby shook his head at Josh’s abrupt departure, then turned to Sam. “Sam?”

Sam was staring where Josh had been, clearly lost in thought.

“Sam!” Toby tried again.

No reaction.

“ _ Sam _ !”

Sam started violently, rearing back from Toby. His foot caught on the leg of the coffee table, and he would have fallen if not for Toby grabbing his arm and steadying him.

“What?” Sam demanded, eyes wide.

“What the hell’s the matter?” Toby said, letting go of his arm.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, straightening his shirt.

“You’re acting like you just got told that the world was going to end next Tuesday,” Toby told him. “So what if the president won’t back the subsidy bill? Winters should be thrilled to get White House backing on the other five;  _ one _ shouldn’t make any difference.”

“It might, if it’s the one he really wants backing on,” Sam said, his tone carrying unexpected weight.

Toby studied Sam carefully through narrowed eyes. “Even if that’s the case, it’s still not your fault,” he said. “It’s the president’s call at the end of the day.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam nodded absently.

Something in Sam’s tone was raising warning flags in Toby’s mind. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

Sam’s attention jolted back to Toby. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why are you so worried about talking to Winters about the bills?” Toby asked.

“You said so yourself,” Sam said. “He’s an intimidating guy.”

“And your uncle,” Toby added. “Or, at least, he was when you were growing up. Family’s different.”

Sam scoffed; he couldn’t help it. “Not  _ this _ family.”

Toby was surprised at the rather cynical tone coming from the usually idealistic young man. Before he could press for more information, Sam turned back to the whiteboard.

“If veteran affairs is moving after economic reform, we need to take another look at where energy needs to go,” he stated. “And internet security.”

The conversation was clearly closed. Toby made a mental note to ask around about Winters, then followed Sam’s lead. “Energy needs to be broken down by . . .”

* * *

_ Friday, February 6 _

“You don’t have to do this.”

Sam glanced at Elliot walking confidently at his side, then focused his attention forward once more. “Pretty sure it’s part of my job.”

The two were yet again walking through the halls of the Capitol building, the rest of Sam’s security detail spread out and blending in with the rest of the men and women scurrying about. Sam appreciated their discretion, and he hoped it would continue after his secret was out.

“You could always do this over the phone,” Elliot said.

Elliot had been less than thrilled to learn that Sam needed to visit Winters again, and had spent the time since finding out about the trip trying to convince Sam to change his mind.

Sam shook his head at Elliot. “No, it  _ has _ to be in person. It’d be worse if it wasn’t.”

Elliot’s frame tensed. “Worse  _ how _ ?”

Sam winced at his poor word choice and tried to backpedal. “Just . . . he’ll be angrier if I don’t pay him the proper respect by giving him the news in person.”

Elliot stopped in his tracks, one hand catching Sam’s arm. Sam flinched back reflexively, but stopped and faced him.

“Sam,” Elliot said. “If there’s a chance that Congressman Winters might hurt you-.”

“This again?” Sam cut him off. “It’s not like that! Would you just let it go?”

He tried to start walking again, but Elliot grabbed onto his arm and held him still. Sam whirled on him, an order to let him go on his lips, but it died a swift death at the deeply serious look on Elliot’s face.

“Look,” Elliot said. “I did some digging on Chris Winters. There were no official police reports, but I found  _ no less _ than  _ five _ incidents on file associated with his address with the LAPD. All of them were calls for domestic disturbances.”

Fire blazed in Sam’s eyes. He yanked his arm free, only to latch onto Elliot and drag him off to one side. “You had no right!”

“I have  _ every _ right!” Elliot shot back. “You are under my protection! It’s my  _ job _ to ensure that no harm comes to you,  _ no matter _ the source. If you’re walking into a situation that you  _ know _ could result in danger to you-.”

“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill!” Sam hissed. “Uncle Chris is not like that! He just . . . he expects a certain level of deference and respect, and for all those years he spent looking after my mom and me while my dad was away, I don’t think it’s an unreasonable expectation. Do you?”

“If it actually  _ was _ respect I was seeing, then no,” Elliot said.

Sam’s brow creased in confusion. “What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

Elliot gestured a hand up and down at Sam. “You’ve been distracted all week. You’re on edge, you shy away from unexpected touch . . . that’s not respect. That’s fear.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam corrected.

“Is it?” Elliot challenged. “Then you won’t have a problem if I’m in the room with you for this meeting.”

“And how would you explain that to Uncle Chris?” Sam retorted. “I’ll be fine. Now let’s get going before we’re late.”

Turning on his heel, he continued down the hall. Elliot took a deep breath and hurried to catch up.

“It I so much as hear a  _ pin drop _ from that office, I’m coming in, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Elliot said with finality.

“You won’t need to,” Sam promised, striding with a confidence he didn’t feel into his uncle’s office.

Winters’ assistant called to announce Sam’s arrival, and within seconds he was granted permission to move into the next room. Sam stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Winters was standing next to one of his bookshelves, sliding a thick tome back into place. “Samuel,” he greeted blandly. “I hope you’re here with good news for me.”

Sam felt his nerves rise, and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

Winters strode back to his desk, leaning against the front of it. He crossed his arms. “Well?”

Sam took several measured steps forward. “President Bartlet has agreed to support five of your bills in exchange for your help with 286.”

“I see,” Winters replied. “That’s rather generous.”

Sam nodded, then waited. Something told him that he wasn’t going to like what came next.

“Which bill did the president decide to leave out?” Winters asked.

Sam swallowed thickly. “Th-The subsidy bill. 1002.”

Winters glanced down. “I see.”

Nerves blossomed into fear, churning faster in Sam’s stomach. “I-I tried to convince Leo McGarry to push for it with President Bartlet, I swear. He tried, but President Bartlet said no.”

Winters nodded to himself, then straightened. He dropped his arms and lifted his chin. “Well . . . if he said no, then I supposed that’s that.”

Fine tremors of anxiety began to ripple down Sam’s arms to his fingers. “Wh-What?”

“Go back to the White House,” Winters ordered him. “Tell President Bartlet and that excitable little friend of yours that I appreciate the offer, but I won’t be able to vote in favor of 286 after all.”

“You can’t do that!” Sam cried.

Winters’ gaze sharpened dangerously. “I most certainly can, and you have no one to blame but yourself. I  _ explicitly _ told you to push for the subsidy bill above the others. Your failure to heed my order rests entirely on your shoulders.”

“He agreed to support  _ five _ other bills!” Sam protested. “For your support on  _ one _ !”

“And that  _ one _ was the only one I needed White House backing on,” Winters stated. He gave Sam a pitying look. “Samuel. Did you think those five didn’t already have support in the House  _ and _ Senate?”

“Then why send them to President Bartlet?” Sam asked.

“White House backing is powerful currency on the floor,” Winters told him. “Particularly if it’s from the same party as the House majority.”

“Then surely that’s worth you backing 286, even without the subsidy bill on the list,” Sam insisted.

“I’m afraid not,” Winters stated conclusively. “I warned you about the subsidy bill. You’ll have to find some other way to pass 286.”

Sam’s sudden panic drove him forward. “You can’t go back on your word! You  _ promised _ the president!”

The smack came out of nowhere. The force of the blow propelled Sam to the side, causing him to stumble into a chair and fall onto the ground. Sharp pain bloomed on his cheek.

“Watch your mouth, you ungrateful  _ whelp _ !” Winters snapped. “I never  _ promised _ anything. I merely agreed to a mutually beneficial arrangement that  _ you _ failed to uphold.”

The door slammed open and Elliot barged into the room.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Winters demanded. “Who are you?”

Elliot ignored Winters, moving quickly to Sam’s side. He helped the younger man to his feet and gently turned Sam’s face to examine the reddening mark. He turned to Winters, fury simmering in his eyes. “Did you do this to him?”

Winters was not intimidated in the slightest. “Who the hell gave you the right to barge in on a private meeting?” He looked at his door. “ _ Claire _ !”

“Elliot,” Sam said quietly. “Leave it. I fell.”

“We’re leaving,” Elliot declared. “Now.”

“We’re not finished with our meeting,” Winters told him.

“Yes,” Elliot stated, taking Sam’s elbow. “You are.”

Ignoring Winters’ blustering, Elliot pulled Sam out of the office. Blood rushed through Sam’s ears, drowning out everything else. He let Elliot lead him down the hall and into a newly-cleared restroom, too stunned to argue.

Elliot released Sam once they reached the sink. Sam stared blankly at the fresh red mark darkening on his cheek until Elliot pressed a damp paper towel into his hands.

“You’re not going to be alone with him again,” Elliot vowed as Sam shakily wiped his face. “Give me one good reason  _ not _ to haul his ass out of here on assault charges.”

“No proof?” Sam offered weakly, balling up the paper towel and tossing it into the trash.

Elliot scowled. “I’m fairly certain I could get some traction with that red mark on your face,” he retorted.

Sam’s eyes dropped to his feet.

Elliot softened slightly. “Sam,” he said gently. “Why are you protecting him?”

Sam sighed. “I’m not,” he denied. “I just . . . it’s not a big deal. He can cause a lot of trouble for the president. If he uses me to blow off some steam, then it’s not so bad.”

“Sam,” Elliot said, stunned. “He can’t do that.”

“Yes, he can!” Sam cried. “He  _ has _ ! A few years ago, I worked as a congressional aide for Congressman Sanders of New Mexico. He wasn’t a freshman, but he wasn’t exactly established, either. He wanted to make a name for himself, and when he found out that I was Chris Winters’ nephew, he decided to use that connection to advance his own projects.”

“What happened?” Elliot asked.

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Uncle Chris found out immediately what he was doing. He never came right out and admitted to knowing about it, but right after, he used his connections to not only block all of Sanders’ bills in his committee, but in  _ every _ committee. He also managed to convince the other congressmen not to select him to serve on their committees, and he was excluded from a lot of important meetings. By the end of his term, he was finished in politics. I was moved to Uncle Chris’ team for a while before being reassigned to one of his friends, and he made sure to warn me to never abuse our connection like that again or he would do the same to me.”

“Sam, that wasn’t your fault,” Elliot said.

“I could have warned Sanders off,” Sam insisted. “I never should have mentioned my uncle.”

“Sam . . . is  _ that _ why you haven’t told anyone about your father?” Elliot asked.

Sam gave a slight start. “What? No! I . . .” He frowned in thought. “I don’t . . . I don’t think so . . .”

“Sam,” Elliot said. “Vice President Hoynes is  _ not _ like Winters. He’d never blame you for the actions of others. Winters is wrong.”

“Is he?” Sam countered. “He told me what to do to get his support on 286. He  _ warned _ me, and I didn’t come through. Now I have to go back to the White House and tell Josh that I screwed up.”

“Sam-,” Elliot tried.

“Come on,” Sam said, his tone subdued. “We need to get going.”

* * *

“Sam! Have you seen this crap? Who the- _ what the hell _ ?”

Sam’s head jerked up from where he’d been working on a statement that CJ needed for her next press briefing. Toby was standing just inside his office, holding a piece of paper but staring at Sam in shock that was rapidly giving way to anger. “What?”

“What the hell happened to your face?” Toby demanded.

Sam winced, checking past Toby to see if anyone’s attention had been drawn to them. Fortunately, Toby’s outraged tone was quite common to those who worked with them, so no one was looking their way.

“Close the door!” Sam hissed. “And nothing happened to my face. I’m fine.”

Toby closed the door and folded his arms. “You wanna try that again?”

Sam avoided looking directly into Toby’s eyes. “You know how clumsy I can be.”

“Right,” said Toby in complete disbelief. “So clumsy that you fell right into someone’s fist?”

“Not a fist,” Sam corrected. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Toby’s voice rose again. “Half of your face is turning into a bruise! Who did this to you?”

“ _ No one _ did  _ anything _ to me!” Sam insisted. “Will you just leave it alone?”

“The only person you went to see today was Winters,” Toby continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken. “Did  _ he _ do that to you?”

Real fear seized Sam. “No!” he cried. “I told you; I fell! Look, I have a lot of work to do, so ask what you came to ask so I can get on with it.” He turned his attention back to his laptop screen.

Toby moved a stack of folders from one of Sam’s visitor chairs and sat down. “Sam,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

Unable to resist the gentle request, Sam did.

“Yesterday you were worried about Winters’ reaction to the news of not getting support on all six of his bills,” Toby stated. “Today, after your meeting, you have a bruise on your face and a pissed off Secret Service agent outside your door. It’s not hard to figure out what happened.”

Sam wilted. “Elliot’s mad?”

“He doesn’t look happy,” Toby replied. “Sam. Tell me.”

Sam sighed, dropping his eyes to his desk. “It’s like you said, it’s not hard to figure out,” he stated quietly. “Uncle Chris was not happy to lose support on the subsidy bill, so he decided to withdraw his support on 286. I tried to talk him out of it, but I couldn’t. Josh has been out of the office since then, and I haven’t told him yet.” He rubbed his forehead. “God, Josh is going to  _ kill _ me-.”

“Hey!” Toby barked sharply.

Sam’s eyes flew up to him in surprise.

“This is  _ not _ your fault!” Toby snapped. “You had nothing to do with the president’s decision. You didn’t do anything wrong. And I can’t imagine you doing  _ any _ thing to warrant someone hitting you. I mean, if  _ I _ haven’t done it by now . . .”

The humor was unexpected but welcome. Sam chuckled softly.

Toby sighed. “Seriously, Sam . . . if you aren’t going to report Winters for assault, then you need to stop going over there. As your boss, I can make it an order if I need to.”

Sam smiled faintly. “Elliot’s way ahead of you.”

“At least one of you has sense,” Toby replied. “I’m surprised he didn’t just arrest Winters on the spot.”

Sam gave Toby an abashed look.

“Or maybe not,” Toby added, correctly interpreting Sam’s expression. “Especially if you just denied everything to him like you just tried to do to me.”

Sam winced.

Toby shook his head. “It’s a good thing you’ve got a new family now, anyway. You won’t need to put up with Winters anymore.”

Sam nodded, then hesitated as a thought occurred to him. “Toby, can I . . . can I ask you a question?”

Toby nodded.

“Elliot said something earlier,” Sam said. “He said . . . he said that John wouldn’t react like Uncle Chris if I . . . that he wouldn’t . . .”

Toby ducked his head to catch Sam’s eyes. “Wouldn’t give you a matching mark on the other side of your face?”

Sam blushed. “Uncle Chris has high expectations of behavior. He demands nothing less than absolute respect.”

“A standard he himself appears unable to meet,” Toby stated.

Sam shrugged, unable to argue with that comment.

“I know the vice president mostly by reputation,” Toby continued. “He’s made a name for himself in Congress, and I don’t doubt he’ll do the same here. But if I had to guess?”

Sam waited.

“I’d say he’s far less likely to give you that matching mark on your face and far  _ more _ likely to give it to Winters,” Toby concluded.

Sam’s eyes widened in shock.

“All right then.” Toby rose from his chair. “When you finish what you’re working on, come to my office. I need to run a statement by you and see if we can figure out who needs a remedial class in English 101.”

Sam nodded absently as Toby left.

* * *

Sam leaned back on the couch in his apartment, a basketball game playing on the television. The sound was turned down to give Sam time to gather his thoughts.

Hoynes had extended another dinner invitation over the phone that afternoon, but Sam had begged off, claiming the need to work. Though true, the bruise on his cheek was the true impetus behind his decision. Hoynes had clearly been disappointed, but had assured Sam that he understood and that the invitation would stand should he change his mind.

Just the act of giving him space than for no other reason than he had asked for it sent turbulent emotions rolling through Sam. He couldn’t think of a single time growing up when his parents or his uncle had done anything similar. He had always been expected to be ‘on’, to be ‘fine’; there was always a role to play. A way to behave. With the Hoynes family, it never seemed to matter to them.

Of course, Sam thought wryly, he was comparing a week with one to twenty-six years with the other. Hardly a fair comparison.

Still . . .

Pounding on his door interrupted his brooding. Sam glanced over with a frown, then stood. Whoever it was would have had to get by Elliot’s eagle eye, so they couldn’t pose any real danger to him.

Sam had barely opened the door when it was forced open. Josh pushed past Sam, practically stomping into the apartment.

“Uh, hi, Josh,” Sam said, closing the door.

Josh turned to face him, his expression a blank mask. The look froze Sam; he recognized the signs of an impending explosion.

“I just finished meeting with Congressman O’Leary,” he stated, apropos of nothing.

“ _ Now _ ?” Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s after nine o’clock! I thought O’Leary never met past six.”

Josh ignored the observation. “Do you know what he told me?”

The unease in Sam began to grow. “What?”

Josh laughed humorlessly. It was a harsh sound. “That there was no way that 286 was going to the floor with Winters pulling his support.”

Sam felt his heart sink to his shoes. “Josh-.”

“I  _ told _ Congressman O’Leary that he must be mistaken,” Josh blazed ahead. “That my buddy Sam would have told me if something had changed.” He folded his arms. “Is there something you maybe neglected to mention to me earlier, Sam?” 

Sam winced. “You were out of the office by the time I got back from the Hill.”

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it.

“And away from a phone?” Josh pressed. “Which is weird, seeing as how I didn’t see  _ any _ missed calls  _ or _ text messages from you  _ at all  _ today.”

“Josh-,” Sam tried again.

“What the hell happened, Sam?” Josh shouted, waving his arms about. “Everything was  _ fine _ until your meeting today! What did you do?”

“ _ Nothing _ !” Sam protested. “He wanted support on the subsidy bill; since he didn’t get it, he withdrew his support for 286.”

“Didn’t you tell him about the other five bills?” Josh demanded.

“I did!” Sam insisted. “I tried, Josh! I swear to you, I tried! But without the subsidy bill, it wasn’t enough!”

“Then you should have convinced him it was!” Josh snapped.

Sam flinched back, stunned. He watched as Josh let out a slow breath, running a hand through his wild curls as his shoulders slumped. 

“We really needed his help, Sam,” Josh said, his tone calmer. “Without it, it’ll take a  _ miracle _ to get 286 past Hoynes.”

“What if we just talk to Hoynes?” Sam suggested, grasping at any straw he could reach. “Maybe we can all work something out that we both-.”

“Oh, get  _ real _ , Sam!” Josh scoffed. “Hoynes?  _ Compromise _ ? He’d just as soon tank the bill than help us!”

The comment stung more than Sam expected it to. He fell silent, watching Josh carefully.

Josh shook his head. “I need to get going. I’ve got a lot of damage control ahead of me, and I need to start now if I want to get in front of this setback.”

Josh strode past Sam, yanking open the door and stepping into the hallway.

Sam followed him, stopping on the threshold. “Josh, I’m sorry.”

Josh paused, but kept his back to Sam. Turning his head to the side, he said, “Just . . . if there’s anything you can do to fix this . . . get him back.”

He didn’t wait for a response, continuing down the hall and out of sight.

* * *

end chapter seven


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a heads up: things with Josh are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better. If that offends you, turn back now and come back in chapter 13. For those of you who have read any of my other lengthier pieces, you know that things tend to work themselves out in the end. 
> 
> Also- since I couldn’t find character birthdays on the show, I went with the tradition of giving the character the actor’s birthday, which for Sam/Rob Lowe is March 17 (though that also changes-read on to find out). 
> 
> Finally, there are some intense emotional moments for Sam. If he seems OOC, it's because I'm portraying someone whose entire world has just shattered and he's left picking up the pieces. My advice; just go with it. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!

_ Monday, February 9 _

Hoynes paused in eating his breakfast to observe his youngest son.

Sam was poking listlessly at the food on his plate, moving it around more than eating it. He seemed a million miles away, his eyes staring blankly at some point on the table.

Hoynes glanced over at Elliot as if his son’s moon could be revealed by the agent. Elliot was watching Sam as well, his face stony but his eyes betraying concern.

Hoynes turned back to his son. “Sam?”

Sam looked up. The loss in his eyes tugged at Hoynes’ heart.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You seem down today.”

Sam’s eyes dropped back down to his food. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not good company today.”

“That’s all right,” Hoynes replied. “You don’t have to be all the time. But if you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.”

Sam set his fork aside. “It’s not important. Something didn’t go the way I needed it to last week. Josh isn’t very happy with me because of it.”

Hoynes had a pretty good idea why. At the time, he’d had a visceral surge of vindication upon hearing about Winters pulling out of 286. Now, faced with his son’s despondency, he couldn’t help feeling some guilt.

“I’m sure that, whatever it is, Josh won’t stay upset for long,” Hoynes said. “He might be able to hold a grudge with the best of them, but he has a harder time hanging onto that anger with his friends. I can’t imagine him staying mad at you for long.”

Sam looked at Hoynes in surprise.

Hoynes smiled faintly. “What? We might not have parted on the best of terms, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention while he worked for me.”

Sam returned the smile. He picked up his fork, the cloud of gloom over him dissipating. “Thanks.”

Hoynes preened at the praise. “My pleasure,” he replied. “Oh, by the way, the president has invited the family to dinner sometime this week.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “He did?”

“Well, it’s more like Abbey invited Suzanne,” Hoynes amended. “They’ve been getting together and talking. I’m sure I’ll get more information during lunch today.”

“With Suzanne?” Sam asked.

Hoynes shook his head. “With Jed Bartlet.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re having lunch with the president?”

Hoynes nodded. “We’re trying to make it a regular thing when our schedules allow. I have to say, it’s nice to talk to someone about the gray hairs our kids give us.”

The two chuckled lightly, the tension seeping even more from Sam’s shoulders.

Movement near them drew their attention. Both looked up to see Josh standing beside their table, a strange-looking smile on his face. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Josh, hi,” Sam welcomed his friend. He read the emotions playing across Josh’s face and grew still.

“Good morning, Josh,” Hoynes greeted pleasantly, making an effort at civility for Sam’s sake. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

“Thank you, sir, but no,” Josh replied stiffly. “I just came to grab something to go. I have Senior Staff in fifteen minutes and I still have a phone call I need to make before then.”

“Maybe next time, then,” Hoynes offered.

“Sure.” Josh’s eyes shifted to his friend. “Sam.”

“Morning, Josh,” Sam replied, his tone subdued. “See you at Senior Staff.”

Josh nodded sharply before turning on his heel and walking away. Sam’s gut churned, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Well,” Hoynes announced, setting his napkin on his plate. “Speaking of meetings, I have one myself in ten. I’ll get the details about that dinner and let you know. Oh, and Jake told me to remind you to give him a call; something about a rematch?”

Sam nodded, finding a weak smile for Hoynes. “Yeah. Pool. We went to Callahan’s last week. I’ll call him.”

Hoynes grinned. “I might want to tag along on that one myself. I’ll see you later.” Standing, he squeezed Sam’s shoulder in farewell before taking his leave.

Elliot slid into Hoynes’ empty seat as Sam pushed his plate to one side. “He’s right, you know.”

“Who’s right about what?” Sam asked.

“The vice president,” Elliot answered. “About Josh. He might be upset right now, but he’ll get over it.”

Sam nodded, but part of him remained unconvinced.

Elliot stood. “Come on; let’s get you upstairs. We have just enough time to grab your stuff from your office before your meeting.”

Sam stood and joined Elliot, walking out of the Mess.

* * *

Something wasn’t right.

Toby glanced back and forth between Sam and Josh while they waited for Leo to arrive for Senior Staff. Both were sitting quietly in their seats, Sam occasionally glancing Josh’s way and Josh pointedly ignoring him. The air between them practically vibrated with tension.

CJ shot Toby a questioning look, nodding at Sam and Josh. Toby rolled his eyes in return and shook his head.

Leo strode into the office. “Okay, what have we got?”

“The press are asking if there’s any truth to the rumor that President Bartlet is going to Pennsylvania next week,” CJ said promptly.

“CJ-,” Toby started.

“Why the hell would the president go to Pennsylvania?” Leo demanded.

“He wouldn’t,” Toby told Leo. He turned to CJ. “He’s not.”

“There are rumors about a white supremacy group possibly discussing organizing a protest in Philadelphia, and that the president plans to go and assist the governor with handling the situation, up to and including deploying the national guard,” CJ stated.

“No sources are confirming, so it’s just hearsay,” Sam added.

“Hearsay that’s gaining traction,” CJ rebutted.

“Because we’re making a thing out of something that’s not a thing,” Toby pointed out. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Why would we even send the president there?” Sam wondered. “It seems like something he would do over the phone anyway.”

“Don’t tell the press  _ that _ !” Toby exclaimed. “The next thing you know, we’ll hear that the president is calling air strikes on American citizens.”

“Leo?” CJ prompted.

Leo shuffled through the messages on his desk. “The president hasn’t told me of any visit and he’s supposed to tell me these things. It’s just a rumor; there’s no trip.”

CJ nodded.

“Okay,” Leo said. “What else?”

“So I spent the weekend calling nearly every aide I knew to set up meetings with congressmen in order to try and get support for 286 back since Winters dropped out,” Josh said. “I’m on the schedule for eleven of them so far.”

Toby caught Sam’s wince.

“See, I’m not understanding why he’d do something like that,” CJ said. “He had the president’s backing on  _ five _ of  _ his _ bills, and now that’s gone.”

“I wasn’t part of that conversation,” Josh said glibly. “You’d have to ask Sam.”

“You know, we  _ could _ review the bill again,” Sam said, pushing down the reaction Josh’s words tried to spark. “Maybe get Hoynes  _ on _ our side instead of against it.”

“We’ve been over this, Sam,” Josh said, finally looking at him. “286 is too expensive as written, and Hoynes won’t let go of the internet access issue.”

“Which is a valid point,” Sam conceded. “But the devices can’t really do much without internet.”

“Plenty of businesses offer free wifi,” Josh insisted. “They can go to any  _ one _ of them if we give them the computers.”

Sam frowned. “Those businesses aren’t usually found in the neighborhoods of the students we’re planning to help,” he pointed out. “They’d have to drive, possibly up to an hour away in some instances, late on a school night, just to do homework.”

“Did your new buddy Hoynes tell you to say that?” Josh fired back.

The scathing note in Josh’s sharp words rendered Sam speechless. His jaw hung open in shock, and his wasn’t the only one.

“Josh!” Leo snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Josh had slipped too far into his temper to be reined in. “I mean, eating breakfast with him?  _ Spending time _ with him? I thought you were on  _ our _ team, but then I find you fraternizing with the enemy!”

Sam flushed, feeling his own temper begin to spark. “He’s the vice president; he’s not supposed to  _ be _ the enemy!”

“Unless I missed something here, Hoynes has been solely responsible for blocking us from pushing 286 through committee,” Josh said. “Well, until last Friday, anyway. When Winters  _ conveniently _ backed out after his meeting with you. Coincidence?”

“Shut up, Josh,” Toby snapped. “Before you manage to cram  _ both _ feet in your mouth.”

Josh rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, Leo, but I have to go. I’ve got back-to-back meetings all week trying to get back the support we lost last Friday.”

He strode from the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

CJ glanced from one face to the next. “What the hell just happened?”

“Just Josh being a short-sighted idiot with his mouth running ahead of his brain,” Toby replied flatly. “As usual.”

Sam looked at Leo, his face burning with embarrassment. “Leo, I didn’t sabotage 286. I  _ swear _ .”

Leo held up a hand. “I know, Sam.” He glanced at Toby and CJ. “Can you two give us a minute? I’ll reschedule Senior Staff for a later time.”

Both nodded and stood. Toby turned to face his deputy. “Sam, come and see me after you’re done here with Leo. I need to go over some specifics on the president’s speech for the economists’ dinner.”

Sam nodded.

Leo waited for the door to close behind Toby and CJ before speaking. “Sam,” he said. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how Josh gets when he’s got something in his teeth.”

Sam shook his head.

“Maybe it’s time to consider telling Josh about your situation with Hoynes,” Leo suggested. “Not so he’d stop accusing you, but because he’s your friend.” He shrugged. “As an added bonus, he might finally calm down about Hoynes.”

Sam hunched his shoulders. “To be honest, Leo, telling him now would only make him think he was right about fraternizing with the enemy.”

“You were right, you know,” Leo told him. “Hoynes isn’t supposed to be the enemy.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “He’s . . . not what I expected. Especially not after the picture Josh always painted of him.”

Leo smirked. “That’s because Josh knew Senator Hoynes and now Vice President Hoynes,” he said. “He never knew him as ‘Dad’. Trust me; you don’t make it very far in this business without growing a thick skin and stiff backbone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t leave it at the door when you come home to family.”

Sam reflected on his interactions with Hoynes. “I never thought of it like that.”

Leo nodded. “You should tell Josh. Hell, you should tell CJ and Toby while you’re at it, but only when you feel ready.”

“I . . . kind of already told Toby,” Sam admitted.

“You did?” Leo asked.

“More like blurted it out in his office, but yeah, Toby knows,” Sam confirmed.

“That’s good, Sam,” Leo praised. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell him.” His mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. “How did he take the news?”

Sam grinned. “Exactly how you’d expect, really,” he answered. “Surprised, sarcastic . . . but he took it in stride right away. Didn’t even question it.”

“Of course,” Leo replied. “You’d never lie about something like that.”

Sam felt warmed by the compliment.

“All right, get outta here,” Leo said, making a shooing motion with his hands. “Toby’s probably waiting outside the door for you.”

Sam laughed as he stood.

“And don’t worry about Josh,” Leo added. “He’ll be fine once he pulls his head out of his ass.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo nodded and returned to the messages on his desk. A full five minutes passed in silence before he froze, then looked up.

“He told  _ Toby _ first?”

* * *

“Wait,” Bartlet said. “He told  _ Toby _ first?”

Hoynes nodded, taking another bite from his grilled sandwich.

Barter narrowed his eyes at Hoynes. “Not Josh?” he pressed. “Are you  _ sure _ he didn’t say  _ Josh _ ?”

“Seeing as how Ziegler was in the room with us when Sam told me, I’m pretty sure,” Hoynes replied.

“Damn,” Bartlet swore, leaning back in his seat slightly. “That means I owe Abbey fifty bucks. I thought for  _ sure _ he’d tell Josh first.”

Hoynes chuckled.

Bartlet studied him for a moment. “You seem happier than I’ve ever seen you, John. More settled. Sam too.”

Hoynes smiled. “I think the whole family is. Finding Sam has filled in the piece that we’ve been missing all these years.”

“I understand that I have you and Suzanne to thank for stopping Sam from staying here until ungodly hours each night, too,” Bartlet added.

Hoynes nodded. “Suzanne hasn’t asked him for much, but she  _ has _ asked for him to join us for dinner at home by six most nights. We’ve been taking the opportunity to get to know Sam better, and he seems to be getting used to the idea of being our son.”

“Your other boys are still in town?” Bartlet asked.

“They both extended their stay,” Hoynes confirmed. “I think they claimed family emergency. They’re planning to stay until at least the end of the month, which is good. Sam’s birthday is next week. I know they don’t want to miss it.”

“Next week?” Bartlet echoed.

Hoynes nodded. “The eighteenth.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Mrs. Landingham usually gives me a longer heads up than that,” Bartlet stated. “I’m pretty sure she hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Could be the Seaborns changed it,” Hoynes offered, his expression clouding slightly at the thought. “If that’s the case, then Sam probably has no idea.”

“That’ll help with keeping it a surprise,” Bartlet said. He speared a grilled zucchini on his fork. “Does Suzanne have a plan in the works? Abbey hasn’t mentioned anything.”

“I think they’re both still in the plotting stage,” Hoynes told him. “Both mine  _ and _ Suzanne’s parents wanted to fly in for whatever it is that’s being planned, but we managed to convince them to settle for video calls for now. Sam hasn’t met them yet, and I don’t want to set his progress backward.”

Bartlet frowned in confusion. “How exactly do Abbey and Suzanne expect to have a birthday party if Sam hasn’t told anyone but Toby about you guys?”

Hoynes smiled wryly. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s to not get in the way of Suzanne and her boys.”

“Good man,” Bartlet chuckled. “Besides, I’m sure our wives will fill us in soon enough.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, enjoying the lunch that the cook had sent to them before Bartlet switched topics.

“Any more news on the case?” he asked.

Hoynes nodded. “The Secret Service finally brought Norman back to the U.S. They’re on their way to DC to be questioned at FBI Headquarters.”

“Has he said anything?” Bartlet asked.

“Just that he was surprised, mostly,” Hoynes replied. “And confused; according to Agent Butterfield, he doesn’t seem to know why the Secret Service apprehended him.” He paused. “I heard that he asked to speak to Sam.”

“Makes sense,” Bartlet said. “Secret Service involvement is a big clue that Sam’s involved, since Sam works here. That’s not too big of a leap to make.”

Hoynes scowled. “Butterfield is concerned that Seaborn might lawyer up if he doesn’t get to speak to Sam.”

“It might not hurt for Sam to talk to him,” Bartlet said gently. “At least he can do it in a safe place. Nothing will happen to him at the FBI, and he can get some closure on all of this.”

“I don’t want him anywhere  _ near _ those people!” Hoynes snapped.

Bartlet raised an eyebrow. “You know he’ll go there, whether you want him to or not. He’s headstrong like that.” He tipped his head slightly to one side. “Just like his father.”

The words softened Hoynes’ ire like nothing else could. He sagged slightly. “I’m just worried that, if he goes, he’ll get hurt. I don’t get the sense that they were very good parents to him.”

Bartlet’s brows drew together in confusion. “How do you mean?”

Hoynes sighed. “He was so surprised at how we were at our first family dinner, and it seems to still catch him off guard each time he eats with us,” he answered. “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; we just talk and joke around. And he was absolutely floored that I wanted to make our breakfasts together a regular thing; did I tell you that?”

Bartlet shook his head, his mind wandering back to the previous week and his conversation with Congressman Winters.

“It’s like he doesn’t understand how a family works,” Hoynes continued. “It breaks your heart, seeing how happy he is with the attention. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed; I know Suzanne has seen it too.”

“Has he said much?” Bartlet asked. “About growing up with the Seaborns?”

“Not a lot,” Hoynes replied, shaking his head. “Mostly, he talks about things he’s done as a kid, but he tends to change the subject if anyone asks him about the Seaborns.” He huffed. “I wish he’d tell me; whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what I can imagine.”

“Sam is a polite, intelligent, and caring man,” Bartlet said. “His life before now, whatever it may have been, shaped him into who he is.” Seeing the thought sink in, Bartlet pressed on. “Anything new with Chelsea Seaborn?”

The scowl returned with a vengeance. “She’s hiding behind an army of lawyers,” Hoynes bit out. “The FBI and the Secret Service are doing everything they can to keep under the radar, but without a warrant, they can’t get access to her. They have enough to bring it to a judge for one, but then it becomes public record, and . . .”

“And the cat is out of the bag,” Bartlet concluded.

Hoynes nodded. “Her lawyers are some of the best on the West Coast, and they aren’t budging. Chelsea must come from old money, if some of the names are the people I’m thinking about.”

“Winters money, apparently,” Bartlet stated.

Hoynes’ eyes widened, his gaze snapping to Bartlet. “What?”

Bartlet raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know either? Evidently, Chelsea’s brother is Congressman Christopher Winters.”

“I know Winters,” Hoynes said. “He’s not a man you ever want to cross, if the rumors on the Hill are anything to go by. Personally, I never liked him, and was glad when I moved to the Senate and didn’t have to deal with him as much.” His frown deepened. “Do you think the Secret Service knows?”

“They must,” Bartlet replied. “They’re the Secret Service.”

“Still, I want to talk to Agent Butterfield about it,” Hoynes decided. “Maybe Winters knows something about the kidnapping.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Bartlet agreed. “Oh, Abbey wanted me to talk to you about dinner Wednesday night . . .”

* * *

_ Tuesday, February 10 _

Sam was so deep in thought as he drafted the first version of the internet security section of the administration goals speech that he nearly missed the knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, not looking away from his laptop screen.

“Sam?”

Sam looked in surprise at Ron Butterfield standing in his doorway. “Agent Butterfield, come in! What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Butterfield closed the door behind him and moved to the chair Sam gestured to. “A couple of things, actually. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Sam replied. He set aside his notepad and closed his laptop to give Butterfield his full attention.

“First, I noticed that Agent Price ordered a more detailed background check on Congressman Christopher Winters,” Butterfield began. “When I asked him about it, he mentioned some of his concerns to me.”

Sam felt his cheeks grow warm. “There’s no need for concern, Agent Butterfield. I’m fine.”

Butterfield fixed Sam with a very serious expression. “Sam, anyone who lays a hand on you with the intent to cause harm is committing a crime. Even before your real identity was discovered. Now, as the son of the vice president, it could be construed as a threat to national security. At the moment, there’s nothing we can do about past offenses without proof. If you don’t want to press charges, there’s nothing I can do to stop you. What I  _ can _ do, however, is ensure that you are no longer permitted to be alone with him again. You do not leave Agent Price’s sight in public locations. Understood?”

Sam nodded, too embarrassed to argue. He looked down.

“Sam,” Butterfield said, his tone soft.

Sam met his eyes.

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way,” Butterfield stated firmly.

Sam cleared his throat, blinking away his sudden tears. “Ah, you mentioned there were a couple things?”

Butterfield nodded, accepting the clumsy switch of topics. “Yes. The reason I noticed Agent Price’s background check was because I was already running one. It seems that Congressman Winters is the one paying for his sister’s lawyers.”

Sam shrugged. “Of course; she’s his sister.”

“Who has a considerable amount of her own money,” Butterfield pointed out. “And a lawyer for a husband. His involvement isn’t sitting right with me at the moment.”

“Mom’s always been a little . . . flighty, I guess you could say,” Sam said. “Overly dependent on Uncle Chris, too. Dad wasn’t always around; I guess Uncle Chris just got used to taking care of us.”

“All the more reason to look into him,” Butterfield replied. “If Chelsea  _ was _ involved in your abduction, she might have turned to him for help. We’re gathering as much information as we can, but it’s been exceedingly difficult with the lawyers that Congressman Winters has provided her. The only person left who might know is Norman, and he won’t talk to us.”

Sam jolted in his chair. “You’ve seen my dad? He’s back in the country?”

“He arrived a couple days ago,” Butterfield said. “He also wants to talk to you.”

Sam was stunned. “He . . . what?”

“He appeared to be very confused about why he was picked up until we started asking him what he knew about the circumstances of your birth,” Butterfield continued. “Then he invoked his right to an attorney and refused to speak until he sees you.”

For the last couple of weeks, the one thing Sam had wanted more than anything was to speak to at least one of his parents. Now, with the opportunity right in front of him, he found himself hesitant to take it. The irony was not lost on Sam. “How long do I have to decide?”

Butterfield’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question. “We can hold him until this evening without charging him, but then we have to release him. I know it’s short notice, but this afternoon would be best.”

Sam nodded as Butterfield stood. “If you decide to go ahead and visit, just let Agent Price know,” the agent said. “He’ll take care of the details.”

Butterfield left Sam behind to his swirling thoughts.

* * *

Toby had been back from his lunch meeting with the two senators who most favored government welfare all of five minutes when the light knock on the door drew his attention away from the messages that Ginger had passed him. He looked up, spying Sam hovering anxiously in his doorway.

“Sam,” Toby greeted. “Did you finish that soundbite for the press on the energy package?”

Sam entered the office and sat on the couch. “Yeah, I already gave it to CJ. She’s good with it.”

Toby set his messages aside and leaned back in his chair. “Okay,” he said. “So what’s up?”

Sam fidgeted with his hands. “Agent Butterfield came to see me earlier. He told me that he’s got my dad in custody and that he wants to see me.”

“And by ‘your dad’, you mean . . .” Toby clarified.

Sam winced. “Um, Norman. Yeah.”

“And he wants to see you,” Toby continued.

Sam nodded. “He won’t talk to anyone until he does.

Toby studied Sam for a long moment. “I would have thought you’d be chomping at the bit to talk to him yourself,” he finally said. 

Sam suddenly surged to his feet, hands gripping his hair. “I am!” he cried. “Or, I thought I was! I mean, they’re the  _ only _ ones I  _ haven’t _ heard from about all of this. I needed to hear from them that this whole thing was real, that I was really Sam  _ Seaborn _ , and not . . .” He trailed off.

“Lot of past tense in that statement,” Toby observed. “What changed your mind?”

Sam’s shoulders sagged. “I . . . being around John . . . around Suzanne, and with Jake and Jamie . . . it’s too easy. Like I fit in, in a way that I never did as a Seaborn . . . maybe  _ too _ easy . . .”

Toby pointed a finger at Sam as the younger man sank back onto the couch. “Don’t go starting down  _ that _ track. You fit in because you’re  _ their kid _ .”

Sam nodded slowly. “I think . . . I’d still like to talk to my- to Norman,” he decided. “I need answers, and I think he has them.” He looked at Toby. “I was wondering . . . would you come with me?”

Toby’s eyes rounded slightly at the timid request. “You want  _ me _ to go with you?”

“But if you’re too busy-,” Sam backtracked.

Toby waved a hand at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll go with you. When do we leave?”

Sam’s expression turned sheepish. “Now?”

* * *

“. . . the push for alternative sources of energy will only serve to constrain our market. You need to change it.”

“Gentlemen, I understand where you’re coming from,” Hoynes told his audience. In response to a proposed bill to fund more research into renewable energy, each of the largest oil companies had sent a representative to lobby with him. “But let’s look at the facts: with increasing population size, we increase fossil fuel consumption. It’s a finite resource. What’s the harm in looking into alternatives in the meantime?”

Before anyone could respond, a Secret Service agent stepped forward, one hand on his ear. “Excuse me, Mr. Vice President?”

Hoynes turned and looked at the agent.

“They’re heading out now, sir,” the agent stated.

Hoynes glanced at his watch. “Okay. Let’s give it about an hour.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied before moving back to his post against the wall.

One of the representatives cleared his throat. “Is everything all right, Mr. Vice President?”

Hoynes smiled at him. “Of course,” he replied lightly. “Please excuse the interruption. Where were we?”

* * *

Sam had never visited the FBI Headquarters before, and as Elliot led him and Toby unerringly through the maze of halls, he was grateful for the agent’s presence.

The rest of his protection detail shadowing them in a law enforcement building still felt like overkill, however. Sam wondered if he could negotiate Hoynes down to just Elliot assigned to him.

The group was silent as they piled into the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor. Once again, Elliot took the lead, walking towards a reception desk. Instead of stopping and checking in, as Sam expected him to do, Elliot merely nodded at the receptionist, who nodded in return, and led the group past the desk and into a larger room with desks covered in files, folders, and computers. Agents with badges clipped to belts or hanging on chains around their necks were clustered throughout the room typing, working, talking . . . If it weren’t for the guns in several holsters on some of the agents, Sam could have sworn the scene was a reflection of one he saw regularly in the West Wing.

Elliot was no stranger to several in the room; agents immediately looked as they passed before continuing with their work, but a number of them called out greetings to the Secret Service agent. Elliot returned their greetings briefly, but continued deeper into the room to where Sam could see another hall with several doors on either side.

Elliot moved to the first door on the right, opening it. Two of Sam’s security detail immediately entered, but Elliot paused and turned to face Sam and Toby.

“Wait here while I let the ASAC know we’re ready,” he told them.

Sam obediently walked inside, noticing the few chairs in the room facing a large window that looked into an empty room next door.

Toby followed him in, the door closing behind him. He nodded at the two agents who had taken up posts on either side of the door, then looked at Sam. “You okay?”

Sam nodded, but his folded arms betrayed his unease. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous, though.”

“Makes sense,” Toby commented lightly. “I’d be nervous too. Just remember that nothing he says will change the fact that you are Hoynes’ son. You’re the same person you always were; the only thing that’s changed is your name.”

Sam gave him a grateful smile.

The sound of a door opening drew their attention next door. Sam and Toby moved closer to the window and watched as an agent in a suit led two men into the room. The two men sat down at a table, their chairs facing the window. Once they were seated, the agent left.

“That him?” Toby asked.

Sam wasn’t sure which ‘him’ Toby was referring to, but he nodded anyway. “The one on the right is my . . . is Norman. The man on the left is his best friend from law school. Uncle Peter. Peter Baylor. They work in the same firm and are each other’s lawyers if they need one.”

“Have they needed one before?” Toby asked.

“Not that they’ve ever told me,” Sam admitted. “I’ve heard them joke about it at parties. I guess they meant it.”

The door to their room opened, and Elliot poked his head in. “Sam; you ready?”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded.

“Hey.” Toby caught Sam’s elbow as he began to step away. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Words jumbling in his throat, Sam could only nod before letting Elliot lead him into the next room.

Norman and Peter looked up at their entrance, their expressions moving from guarded to surprised. Sam distantly registered the door closing as he came to a stop across the table from his father.

“Sam?” Norman said.

“You sound surprised to see me,” Sam commented.

“I guess I am,” Norman admitted. “I didn’t think those agents were listening to me.”

“They were,” Sam told him. “I only found out this morning that you asked for me. I wasn’t available until now.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Norman said softly.

Peter’s eyes looked at something behind Sam. “We asked for a  _ private _ meeting with Sam.”

Sam turned and found Elliot leaning against the wall beside the large one-way mirror.

Elliot was unmovable. “Given the nature of our investigation, this is as private as you’re going to get.”

Peter rose, tugging on Norman’s arm. “No deal. Norm, let’s go.”

Norman raised his other hand, palm out, towards Peter. “It’s all right, Pete.”

Peter searched Norman’s face to assure himself of Norman’s sincerity. Reluctantly, he sat back down.

Norman gestured at the chair in front of Sam. “Sam; won’t you sit?”

Sam sat down, his eyes never leaving the face of the man he had believed to be his father for the last twenty-six years.

Norman let out a long breath, then chuckled. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

Sam had about a million questions swirling around in his head. “How about starting with why you asked to see me?”

Norman glanced over at Peter, who nodded. Norman sighed.

“I guess it had to come out sometime,” he started. “Especially now that you work at the White House and had to get a pretty extensive background check. I just didn’t expect this degree of severity.”

“ _ What _ had to come out?” Sam demanded.

“Sam . . .” Norman took a deep breath. “Have they told you that I wasn’t your father?”

Sam nodded.

Norman met his eyes. “They were right.”

Sam knew they were right. He’d known for a couple of weeks, had seen the evidence. Hearing it now, confirmed by Norman, felt like a gut punch. Sam heard a rushing sound in his ears. “Wh-What? You  _ knew _ ?”

“It’s a long story . . .” Norman trailed off.

“You’ve been lying to me for the last twenty-six years,” Sam said bitterly. “I’ve got the time.”

Norman looked startled at the harsh statement. Color tinted his cheeks in embarrassment. “You’re right,” he said. “I should have said something a long time ago. I just . . . I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Sam waited patiently for Norman to gather his thoughts.

“I met your mother . . . I met Chelsea right out of law school,” he began. “That part’s true. Her father was a senior partner in Winters, Blowers, and Sharpe. They were having a Christmas party, and I was invited to attend by a friend.”

Sam nodded. He’s heard this part of the story before.

“Chelsea caught my eye almost immediately,” Norman continued. “I asked her out, and we were dating before I knew it. I really did love her at first, but after a few months, she started to change. She started acting clingy . . . codependent. She called me almost constantly, started showing up at my work, at outings with my friends . . . I thought about breaking it off. I  _ tried _ , but she just clung tighter. My own parents didn’t think anything was wrong with her behavior, and in fact were pressuring me to marry her. So I did.”

Sam was appalled, and not a little disgusted. “Even though you didn’t love her?”

“I used to,” Norman replied. “I thought, maybe, I could again. Maybe she’d ease up if we were married. And for a while, she did. But then I met this law clerk in my firm.”

“Aunt Sarah?” Sam asked quietly.

Norman nodded. His gaze became dreamy. “Sarah. We got to know each other pretty well, since both of us had late nights more often than not. She was just so  _ different _ from Chelsea; so put together, so intelligent . . . one thing led to another, and we started seeing each other.”

“Didn’t she know you were married?” Sam asked.

“She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood my situation,” Norman admitted.

Sam shook his head, wrestling with his disbelief. “How does this all connect to you not being my father?”

“Chelsea . . . she’s not . . .” Norman struggled for the right words.

“Not what?” Sam asked.

“She’s insane,” Norman blurted out. “She just . . . after a few months of marriage, and I started getting bigger cases, she just got more possessive and insecure. She’d accuse me of the craziest thing one minute, then act like we were the perfect couple the next. I just couldn’t handle it! So I started spending more time in the office, just to get a break from it all.”

“And to spend more time with Sarah,” Sam added. “Do you think,  _ maybe _ , that she started acting like that  _ because _ you were avoiding her?”

Norman shrugged. “Looking back on it, yeah. But I was too deep into it by that point. Then, one day, I get home from work and she tells me that she’s pregnant.

“Things got better for a while,” Norman continued. “I was so excited to be a father. I started coming home on time more, cooled things off with Sarah . . . Chelsea seemed to be doing better, too. But one day, when she was about six months pregnant, I was searching in the attic for something and I found a pregnancy pad.”

The devastation was plain on Norman’s face. “I didn’t confront her then; it could be a mistake, right?” He shook his head. “When I thought about it, she never let me touch her stomach. She always said she didn’t want me to hurt the baby. So, that night, when she was sleeping, I checked under her night shirt. Sure enough, she was faking the whole thing.”

“Did you say something then?” Sam asked.

“I was going to,” Norman answered. “I almost did. I was so  _ angry _ ; I wanted  _ so badly _ to be mistaken. But things were so much better at home.  _ Chelsea _ was so much better. I figured there were three months left to go anyway; she’d eventually have to give up the charade, right?”

“Clearly, it didn’t work out that way,” Sam snarked.

Norman shook his head. “She decided to go visit her brother near her . . . well, what she  _ said _ was her due date. Next thing I know, I get a phone call that she’d had the baby.

“I had no idea what to think!” Norman spread his hands apart on the table. “There was no way she gave birth, but suddenly there you were, in her arms, in my house. You weren’t  _ ours _ , but Chelsea kept acting like you were. I thought maybe she adopted you, or got you from a teenage mom or something. It happens.

“Then I heard about this senator whose baby had gone missing in DC while Chelsea was there,” Norman concluded. “It was national news. Part of me wondered if maybe . . . but . . . Chelsea was crazy, no doubt about that. But I didn’t think even  _ she _ was  _ that _ crazy.”

“And you never thought to say something?” Sam asked, incredulous.

“Without concrete proof?” Norman countered. “She came from a family of extremely powerful and connected lawyers. Accuse her of kidnapping when I wasn’t even  _ there _ ? Even bringing up the pregnancy pads wouldn’t have done any good; they could have argued that she used them to try on clothing for her next trimester. Believe me, I considered my options. There was nothing I could do.”

Sam looked away, processing the information.

Norman leaned forward in his chair. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I just . . . Chelsea wanted to have a child  _ so much _ , so I just . . . let her have you. I did what was expected of me, and I provided for the both of you, as best I could.”

“So . . . all those ‘business trips’ . . .” Sam trailed off.

Norman shrugged. “Some were real. But most of them, yes, I was with Sarah. She was the life I wanted. Chelsea, and some  _ other _ man’s child? You were the life I was stuck with.”

The words pierced Sam’s heart like a dagger. The man he’d looked up to growing up; the man he’d tried  _ so hard _ his whole life to impress had never loved him.

There came a knock on the door, and the agent from earlier stepped into the room. “Mr. Seaborn, Mr. Baylor; we still have a few more questions for you. Will you come with me, please?”

Norman nodded and stood. He looked at Sam as if to say something more. Instead, he turned and followed his best friend out of the room.

Sam sat stiff as a board, staring blankly at the table in front of him. A look of loss and utter devastation colored his expression.

The door opened a second time, but Sam didn’t bother to look. He sucked in a sharp, surprised breath when he felt a gentle hand squeeze his shoulder.

“C’mon,” came Toby’s quiet voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

Sam didn’t react. He didn’t have the words. The last threads of hope that connected him to his past life had finally snapped, leaving him adrift in a fog of confusion.

The hand on his shoulder slid down to his elbow and urged him out of his chair. “Come on,” Toby said again.

Elliot fell into step on Sam’s other side as the two men exited the room. Sam allowed himself to be led back through the bullpen, not even noticing that the path they took was different from the one they had used when they arrived.

Toby checked something on his phone, then directed Elliot through some doors at the back of the building. The small group walked through an underground parking garage towards a familiar black SUV. The back door of the SUV opened as soon as they were near, and John Hoynes stepped out.

Sam blinked in surprise upon seeing him, but Toby didn’t so much as hesitate as he led his deputy to his father.

“Sir,” Toby greeted, nodding.

Hoynes nodded back. “Thanks, Toby,” he said. “Do you need a lift?”

“No, sir, thank you,” Toby replied. “I’ll just catch a ride back with the rest of Sam’s detail.” He glanced at the shell-shocked younger man, then back to Hoynes. “Take care of him?”

“Of course.” Hoynes studied his youngest son carefully as Toby walked away. Sam met his gaze wordlessly.

“Are you all right?” Hoynes asked him gently.

Sam thought about the man he had thought to be his father and the harsh truth that he had imparted. The contrast with the genuine concern from a father he’d known for only a couple of weeks caused a lump to rise in his throat. He nodded jerkily, hoping to convey that he was all right despite the feeling of his heart breaking.

Something unfamiliar to Sam passed over Hoynes’ face. Stepping closer, Hoynes opened his arms and gathered Sam into a firm embrace. After half a moment, Sam wrapped himself around his father and melted into the hug.

They stood that way for several moments before Hoynes tightened his arm in a squeeze, then stepped back. “Come on,” he said, wrapping one arm around Sam’s back and leading him to the SUV. “Let’s get going.”

Sam climbed into the car, Hoynes joining him in the back. Sam watched as Elliot shut the door, then circled around the vehicle to jump into the passenger seat.

“How did you know I was here?” Sam asked, finally finding his voice.

Hoynes smiled faintly. “The Secret Service reports all moves of their protectees to each other. I asked my detail to let me know if you decided to come here, and when they told me, I asked Mark to clear my schedule.”

Sam glanced out the window as the SUV turned into traffic, then looked back at Hoynes. “Are you mad?”

Hoynes raised his eyebrows. “Mad?” he echoed. “Why would I be mad?”

“You didn’t want me to see him,” Sam reminded him. “Either of them.”

Sadness crossed Hoynes’ face. “I didn’t, but that was because I didn’t want them to get another chance to hurt you,” he admitted. “But I understand your need for answers . . . for closure.” He tilted his head as he considered his son. “Did you find any?”

Sam’s bark of laughter was harsh and bitter. “I’d say so.” He looked back out the window. “He knew I wasn’t his son.”

Hoynes frowned.

Sam turned back in time to catch the look. “He didn’t know  _ whose _ son I was, just that I wasn’t  _ his _ .” He shook his head, not ready to revisit the fact that Norman had suspected him of being Charlie Hoynes. If he’d only said something back then . . . “My whole life is a lie! I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

Hoynes couldn’t help but to reach out for him. “You’re  _ my son _ .”

Sam pulled away. “I don’t even know who that is!” he cried. “How can I be someone I don’t even know? I thought I knew the man  _ they _ wanted me to be, but as it turns out  _ that _ man doesn’t even  _ exist _ !”

And just like that, Hoynes understood what Sam was struggling to put into words.

“Sam, your mother and I don’t need you to  _ make _ yourself into our son,” he stated. “It’s what you  _ are _ . You don’t need to change  _ any _ thing about yourself for our sake. Your career, your interests, your beliefs; those are things that belong to  _ you _ . Your name doesn’t define you.  _ You _ define you. And whether you decide to be a speechwriter, a lawyer, or something else down the road, your mother and I will  _ always _ be there for you. You’re our son, and nothing is going to change that.  _ Nothing _ .”

Sam tried to fight back the tears that filled his eyes, but he so desperately needed to believe Hoynes’ words.

Hoynes reached out again, this time drawing an unresisting Sam into a hug. “The Seaborns . . . whatever their issues are, they go far beyond anything you can control. You are  _ not _ responsible for their actions, and you are  _ not _ required to meet anyone’s expectations but your own.”

“Nothing was ever good enough,” Sam admitted, the words tumbling out of his mouth out of his control. “Nothing I did . . . it was never enough . . .”

Hoynes tightened his hold. “It will be enough for us,” he promised. “ _ You _ will  _ always _ be enough. We may not always agree on things, or see eye to eye, but I promise you, here and now, that you will  _ always _ be enough for us. There is  _ nothing _ you will ever do to make me think otherwise. You’re my son, and I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, several tears escaping. He leaned into his father and allowed himself to soak up the comfort that Hoynes so willingly gave.

* * *

end chapter 8


	9. Chapter Nine

_ Wednesday, February 11 _

With the administration goals speech bearing down on them in under two weeks, the communications department seemed to have buckled down, its members moving about in a strained sort of intensity. Sam was privately of the opinion that an official, full-length State of the Union Address would probably need to be started the week after the administration goals speech if they wanted to finish on time.

As it was, Sam’s side trip the day before hadn’t done him any favors. Though he didn’t regret visiting with Norman, and hadn’t been in any shape to string words together for one of the most important speeches in his career, it had still put him behind schedule. That morning had been spent in a flurry of writing, drafting not only the section on fuel consumption and their administration’s plans to ease it going forward, but had also included finishing the draft on the internet security section. Both were with Toby awaiting proofing and editing, but Sam was less concerned about that than he was about drafting the next section of the speech. As far as he was concerned, revising was easier than drafting, but only just.

He was deep into his own revisions of the section on veteran care and the main points their administration wanted to fix when someone knocked on his door. Sam lifted his chin at the sound, but kept his eyes on the screen in front of him until he had finished the paragraph.

Zoey was watching him from the doorway. “Is this a bad time?”

Sam smiled, pleasantly surprised, and waved her in. “No, not at all! Come in! What can I do for you?”

Zoey closed the door behind her and sat in the one available chair that Sam had decided to stop using to hold his files. With the increase in visitors to his office in the last couple weeks, it was easier to simply move the stack to another spot in his office.

“I heard you went to the FBI building yesterday, and I wanted to see how you were doing,” Zoey replied.

Sam gave her a startled look. “How did you hear that?”

Zoey shrugged. “Your mom called my mom. I was doing homework in the room at the time. Your mom was  _ not _ happy.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. “She wasn’t?”

After Hoynes had picked him up at the FBI, he hadn’t taken him to work or back to his apartment. Instead, Sam had been whisked home to his mother and brothers who, though concerned about him, didn’t appear all that upset.

Sam’s thoughts came to a screeching halt: since when did he start thinking of Number One Observatory Circle as  _ home _ ?

Zoey was nodding. “Oh yeah. It was after dinner. I didn’t hear the whole story, but I got the impression that it didn’t go well. How are you doing?”

After dinner; that would have been when Hoynes arrived home, having been needed back at work after dropping Sam off. He must have filled Suzanne in then.

Zoey’s obvious concern warmed Sam. He smiled at her. “I’m, well . . . I’m better than I thought I’d be, actually,” he admitted. “I found out that the man who I thought was my dad knew that I wasn’t his son all along.”

It was a highly sanitized version of events, but there was no way Sam was sharing more than that.

Zoey scowled. “Screw him, anyway,” she said. “Your real dad is  _ way _ better.”

Sam chuckled. “I’ll have to agree with you on that point.”

Zoey’s look turned sly. “Are you ready for the big dinner tonight?”

Sam laughed. “I better be; Jake and Jamie spent all of yesterday afternoon talking about it. Suzanne told John last night to make sure to come and get me on his way over to the Executive Residence. I guess  _ your _ mom told  _ my _ mom about my habit of working through meals.”

Zoey’s laugh faded, and she tilted her head to one side. “Still ‘John’ and ‘Suzanne’, huh?” she said. “Still not ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ yet?”

Sam’s eyebrows rose.

Zoey shrugged. “You can tell me to mind my own business, if you want,” she offered. “I was just curious.”

Sam had to admit that he was expecting that particular question sooner rather than later. He just hadn’t expected it at that moment. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I think . . . I think I’m beginning to think of them that way more and more. I’m still not sure if I can call them that yet, though.”

“You could,” Zoey encouraged him. “I bet they wouldn’t mind.”

Sam nodded. “John told me that, back when we first found out. I guess . . . I will eventually.”

Zoey smiled, but it faltered at the light knock on the door. She rolled her eyes.

“That’s my five minute warning,” she explained. “I have to go finish my homework before dinner tonight. Mom’s orders.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey! I have a four-day weekend coming up. Do you want to meet up for lunch on Friday? Talk some more?”

“Sure,” Sam replied. “You pick the place and time and let me know.”

Zoey stood. “Will do.”

From next door, they both heard a deafening “SAM!” followed by a heavy thump on the window that Sam’s office shared with Toby’s.

Zoey and Sam looked at each other before dissolving into laughter.

“Looks like we  _ both _ have some work to do before tonight’s dinner,” Zoey commented through her giggles.

“I’d better see what he wants,” Sam said, standing. “He only gets louder if I don’t.”

Zoey gaped at him. “ _ Louder _ ?”

Sam nodded and ushered Zoey out the door, following her. “See you tonight?”

Zoey nodded. “See you tonight!”

* * *

The last time Sam had been in the West Sitting Hall of the Executive Residence, his entire world had been turned on its head. Emotions had been running hot and cold, tempers flaring, and the tension in the air had been thick enough to cut with a dull knife.

Now, two weeks later to the day, it seemed like a completely different room to Sam. Warm laughter drifted to him from the kitchen where Abbey and Suzanne were getting food ready for dinner. Zoey and Jake were talking animatedly about something Zoey was studying in school, while Hoynes was speaking with Jamie on the other side of the room. With the Secret Service standing guard outside of the hall, Sam could almost believe that he was at a dinner party with a regular family.

President Bartlet was the only one missing from their group. He’d sent word with a page that his last meeting was running a little behind, but that he’d join them as soon as he was done. In the meantime, Sam was content to simply be, soaking in the peace and warmth of the family gathering.

The door to their floor was opened by a Secret Service agent, and Bartlet stepped through. Blue eyes swept the room and landed on Sam standing nearby.

“Sam,” he greeted. “Just the man I was looking for.”

Sam straightened. “What can I do for you, Mr. President?”

Rather than answer right away, Bartlet beckoned for Sam to follow. Sam obeyed, joining Bartlet to the side of the hall some distance away from potential eavesdroppers.

“I just had an enlightening conversation with Leo about the status of 286,” Bartlet told Sam. “It seems we’ve lost Winters’ support?”

Sam ducked his head, color rushing to his cheeks. “Yes sir, Mr. President. I’m afraid so. I take full responsibility for that.”

Bartlet waved away the apology. “That’s not necessary, Sam. I’m sure you did everything you could. I’m just surprised at Congressman Winters’ sudden change of heart.”

Sam saw an opening to fix the 286 fiasco for Josh, and he seized it. “He was hoping to get your support on that subsidy bill for orchard farmers. Perhaps, sir, if you would reconsider . . . ?”

Bartlet was already shaking his head. “It won’t work, Sam.”

Sam was undeterred. “Sir, we could get Congressman Winters back on board with the subsidy bill. Maybe he would be amenable to some adjustments to his bill?”

Bartlet studied Sam carefully. “Sam, are you asking me to reconsider because of 286, or are you asking because of Winters?”

Sam started. “Sir?”

Bartlet glanced across the room to where Hoynes was watching them, then turned back to Sam. “Sam, I’ve had some personal experience with powerful men who are nearly impossible to please, so I recognize them when I see them. So are you asking me to reconsider because you want so badly to see 286 pass? In which case I’d tell you that the government would be paying out more than it would take in from those farmers in the long run. Or are you asking me because Winters has given you some kind of ultimatum? To which I’d say he can kiss my ass.”

Sam averted his eyes. “He’s family, sir.”

Bartlet patted Sam’s shoulder. “Believe you me, I understand that feeling.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Hoynes begin to head in their direction. “But Sam?”

Sam met his gaze.

Bartlet smiled and lifted his hand to point a thumb at Hoynes. “I’d rethink that position carefully.”

Hoynes came to a stop beside them. “Everything okay?”

Bartlet’s smile broadened. “Everything is just fine, John. Please excuse me, gentlemen; I need to go say hello to my wife or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He strode past Hoynes as the vice president looked at his son. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, concerned.

Sam nodded, forcing a smile on his face. “Yeah, of course,” he replied. “Just great.”

Hoynes didn’t look fooled by the facade, but he didn’t challenge that statement. “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Your mom and Abbey are moving the dishes to the table.”

Sam walked with Hoynes to the dining room where the rest of their group had gathered. Jake, Jamie, and Zoey were already helping to pile food on plates, the actions a mirror of Sam’s meals with his family at home. He set aside his disappointment over 286 and moved to help them.

Conversation flowed easily throughout their meal, dotted with ripples of laughter. Stories were exchanged over personal experiences connected to various topics, interspersed with random trivia questions posed by the president. Zoey rolled her eyes at those, but played along good-naturedly. To Sam’s surprise, Jake answered most of them and gave as good as he got back to Bartlet.

Towards the end of their meal, Abbey excused herself to go and get their dessert. Sam volunteered to help, joining her in the kitchen. 

Abbey directed Sam towards the cupboard with the plates. “So, how’s it going?”

Sam smiled as he began pulling pie plates out. “It’s going great, actually,” he replied easily. “I didn’t think I’d get used to the idea of being, well . . . their son, but it’s been really good.”

Abbey grinned. “I’m glad, Sam,” she said sincerely. “I know John and Suzanne are overjoyed to have you back. They’ve been a lot lighter; happier since it all came out.” She set the chocolate cake on the counter and moved to retrieve the serving tools. “Have you given any thought to what I said? About telling your friends?”

“I told Toby,” Sam said. “He’s been really great with all of this. You were right about finding someone objective.”

Abbey nodded. “Jed mentioned you’d told Toby. That’s a good first step. You might want to consider telling Josh and CJ next, and soon. You don’t want them finding out on their own.”

“I know,” Sam agreed, setting the dessert forks on top of the plates and lifting the stack. “I’ll find the  _ time _ to tell them. The problem is finding the  _ words _ .”

“You found the words for Toby,” Abbey pointed out.

Sam couldn’t help the snort. “I can’t tell CJ and Josh the way I told Toby; that was a mess!”

The two headed back into the dining room. Bartlet looked up at Sam as he set the plates down and passed one to Abbey.

“Sam, Zoey tells us that you two are planning to get lunch together on Friday,” he stated.

Sam glanced at Zoey, who rolled her eyes. Sam turned back to Bartlet. “Yes, sir?”

Bartlet looked at Hoynes. “What do you think, John? Two?”

Sam was completely lost. The amusement on his brothers’ faces wasn’t helping, either. “Two?”

“Two extra Secret Service details,” Bartlet told him.

Sam immediately felt a protest bubble up. “Sir, I don’t think-.”

“Do you think we can also get them to clear the restaurant?” Hoynes asked.

Sam’s head snapped to him, betrayal in his eyes.

“I can make a call,” Bartlet agreed.

“All right, you two,” Abbey cut in, passing Suzanne a plate of chocolate cake. “Quit teasing them.” She took another plate from Sam and continued serving their dessert. “Suzanne, you were telling us about your parents planning a trip up here?”

* * *

_ Friday, February 13 _

Despite Bartlet and Hoynes’ threats of emptying the restaurant- which Sam had been  _ mostly _ sure they were joking about- Zoey and Sam were seated in a bustling Mexican restaurant during the start of the lunch rush. Elliot, along with Zoey’s primary Jill Costas, was seated at the table across the aisle, positioned in such a way as to be able to observe both exits.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this place,” Sam told Zoey as he examined the menu.

“I’ve come here a couple of times with my friends,” Zoey replied. “The food is really good, and it’s busy enough that no one ever notices me.”

Sam glanced at the agents across the aisle, then turned back to his menu. He got the distinct impression that the Secret Service didn’t agree, but didn’t share the thought. Before he could reply, a waiter arrived to take their orders.

“So,” Zoey said, after glasses of water had been delivered and their orders carried to the kitchen, “dinner wasn’t so bad, was it? I was expecting way more jokes about security. Not to mention some embarrassing stories from my dad.”

Sam chuckled as he took a sip of water. “I have a feeling that Jake and Jamie are hanging around to try and collect some about me, since they have plenty of dirt on each other.”

“They seem comfortable calling you Sam and not Charlie,” Zoey commented. “Does that mean that you’re going to stick with ‘Sam’?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably,” he said. “I’ve never really known myself as anything other than ‘Sam’. I don’t know if I’d ever answer to ‘Charlie’.”

“What about ‘Seaborn’?” Zoey pressed.

“Actually . . .” Sam slanted a glance at the agents. They didn’t appear to be listening, but Sam knew better than to think that they weren’t. He turned back to Zoey. “Since meeting with . . . with Norman, I’ve been giving that some serious thought. I don’t know if I want to keep ‘Seaborn’, especially after speaking with him. I think I might want to change it to ‘Hoynes’. Do you . . . do you think John would mind?”

Zoey beamed at him, settling his nerves. “I think he’d be excited! So; Sam Hoynes?”

Sam smiled softly. “Maybe . . . Samuel Charles Hoynes?”

“That’s a good name,” Zoey agreed. “But you  _ do _ know what you’re going to have to do first, right?”

Sam nodded. “Talk to CJ and Josh,” he admitted. “I know. I was actually thinking about doing that this afternoon.”

“Do you want me to be there when you do?” Zoey offered.

“I appreciate that,” Sam replied. “But I’ll be all right. Thanks.”

“At least make sure Toby’s there when you do,” Zoey insisted. “That way, if they give you a hard time, you can sic him on them.”

Sam laughed at the mental image that Zoey’s words had conjured. “Or he can help them give me a hard time as part of his ‘I told you so’ threat.”

Their laughter was interrupted by sudden shouts coming from the direction of the kitchen. Sam and Zoey looked towards the source in mild confusion and curiosity, but Elliot and Jill were already on their feet and moving to their charges.

Employees were running out of the kitchen being chased by billows of thick, dark smoke. Somewhere amidst the screams, Sam heard the fire alarm sound, but it was too late to serve as a warning. The guests in the dining room were beginning to rise to their feet, everyone moving en masse to the restaurant’s entrance in blind panic.

“Let’s go!” Elliot yelled, grabbing Sam’s arm in an unyielding grip and yanking him to his feet. “We’re going out the back!”

Zoey gave him a look of disbelief, having been pulled out of her own seat by Jill. “ _ Towards _ the fire?”

“Agents outside report that the back door is clear,” Jill replied.

“But the smoke . . .” Zoey protested.

“Here!” Sam grabbed the cloth napkins on the table, dunking one in his water glass until it was saturated. He passed it to Zoey as he dunked his own. “Put it over your nose and mouth.”

Elliot copied the action for himself and Jill as Jill barked orders into her mic, repeating the information she was given from the agents outside. The two agents quickly tied their napkins over their faces, then Jill turned and led the way to the kitchen. Elliot gripped Sam and Zoey’s arms and followed after her.

The smoke was thicker and nearly black, causing Sam’s eyes to water. He pressed the napkin closer to his face, sparing a thought to simply tying it in place as Elliot and Jill had done.

Turning a corner, they spied the flames rising from the line of stoves against one wall. The fire had already leaped to the counters, setting towels and aprons alight and growing with each passing minute. Several abandoned fire extinguishers littered the floor, and Sam frowned.

“Why aren’t the sprinklers on?” Zoey asked, giving voice to Sam’s own thoughts.

“Incoming!” Jill yelled.

Sam barely had time to wonder about the odd warning when he felt a violent shove against his back. He stumbled, his arm tugged free of Elliot’s grip. Sam glanced over his shoulder, seeing a crowd of panicked men and women pushing their way after their group.

Sam tried to move closer to Elliot, but he was no match for the mob as they surged past them. Sam felt himself knocked left and right before losing his balance and being pulled to the ground.

“Sam!” Zoey cried.

Coughs rattled Sam’s frame, his napkin long since lost in the tumble. He rolled to one side until he crashed into the wall, curling into a tight ball to try and protect himself from the stampede. Miraculously, he’d manage to avoid being trampled, but the danger was far from over.

Hands suddenly grabbed at Sam, hauling him to his feet. Sam blinked up through streaming eyes at Elliot’s concerned face.

“Zoey . . .” Sam choked out weakly.

“With Jill, outside.” Elliot pressed one hand to his ear, wrapping his other arm around Sam’s waist and drawing him close. “I’ve got Princeton!” he barked. “Exit is blocked on our end. We’re moving back to the dining room. Make a door for us!”

Sam found himself being pulled back the way he’d come. “Should’ve gotten out when you had the chance,” he gasped.

Elliot ripped off his napkin and pressed it to Sam’s nose and mouth. Sam sucked in the filtered air, choking and coughing.

“And face your father once he found out?” Elliot retorted, his attention on moving through the dining room towards a line of booths with waist-high windows beside them. “No thanks. I’ll take my chances with the fire.”

Windows started shattering before Sam’s eyes, sending gusts of fresh air into the restaurant. Elliot pushed Sam over one of the booths and into the reaching hands of his security detail. Within minutes, Sam found himself outside, squinting into the afternoon sun. 

Sam started to sag, wanting to rest, but his guard detail refused to let him stop. He felt himself be hustled and half-carried to their SUV where Zoey anxiously waited for him with her own detail. Zoey grabbed at Sam, hugging him in relief, but they were quickly separated and shoved into the SUV. As soon as Elliot was pushed in after them, the door slammed and the car took off.

* * *

“All right, that’s it for now. See you all this evening.”

CJ closed her folder and strode away from the podium to where Toby was waiting for her. She opened her mouth to ask him a question when Danny Concannon abruptly joined them. “Hey, CJ.”

“Hi Danny,” CJ said absently.

Danny nodded at Toby. “I wanted to know what the president plans to do about 286.”

CJ stared at him in confusion tinged with irritation. “I just . . . I just told you. Up there.” She waved at the podium.

“Well, yeah, but  _ that _ plan you told us only works if you have Congressman Winters’ support,” Danny pointed out.

“What makes you think we  _ don’t _ have Congressman Winters’ support?” Toby asked.

The three started to walk out of the press room, heading back towards the communications bullpen. Toby absently noted several of the televisions were showing a news report of a burning building, but he was focused on Danny’s answer.

“Two sources on the Hill confirmed there was a falling out,” Danny replied. “With Hoynes opposing and Waters abstaining, how does the president plan to get the bill on the floor?”

Josh chose that moment to join them, giving CJ and Toby a brief reprieve from Danny’s question. “Have any of you guys seen Sam?” he asked. “He’s not in his office.”

Toby narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”

Josh’s expression creased in annoyance. “I had a question about Winters that I need to run by him. I think he might change his mind if I throw him a bone on some environmental lobbyists he needs.”

Toby shook his head. “Give up on Winters,” he told Josh. “He’s a dead end. We’ll find a new way.”

“Besides,” Danny piped up. “I heard he’s got bigger fish to fry. The Secret Service pulled him out of his office yesterday for questioning.”

All four of them came to an abrupt halt, the White House staffers staring at Danny in shock.

“What?” Josh cried.

“Why?” CJ demanded, her voice mingling with Josh’s.

Danny shrugged. “My sources couldn’t tell me. Whatever it is, it’s locked down tight. Any time the Secret Service is  _ that _ tight-lipped, it usually involves one of their protectees.”

“Ziegler!”

Toby turned, seeing Hoynes practically running towards him, his detail struggling to keep up. Hoynes reached them and grabbed Toby’s arm, his eyes wide with panic. “Where’s Sam? Tell me he’s come back by now!”

Toby frowned. “As far as I know, he’s still at lunch. Mr. Vice President, what’s wrong?”

Hoynes released Toby and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Dammit!” He whirled on his Secret Service detail. “We need to get down there now!”

One of the agents looked sympathetic but firm. “Sir, they both have teams looking after them. You can’t go rushing down there. It’s not safe; for you  _ or _ for them.”

Hoynes’ eyes blazed. “That’s my  _ son _ down there! Don’t you tell me that I can’t go to him!”

“John!”

Hoynes’ head snapped to the side, seeing Bartlet striding quickly down the hall with his own detail. “Jed! What have you heard?”

“They’re on their way to GW now,” Bartlet told him. “I ordered the Secret Service to get us there. Let’s go.”

The two took off down the hall, oblivious to the stunned audience they left behind them.

CJ looked at the others. “What the hell was  _ that _ all about?”

Toby took a closer look at the television news report, paling slightly. “That was the restaurant where Sam and Zoey were going for lunch,” he stated in shock.

CJ, Josh, and Danny stood with him, watching the report and listening to the few scant details being shared. No one could find any sign of their friends.

“Did the president say GW?” Danny asked.

All four exchanged looks, then spun around and ran for the nearest exit.

* * *

Zoey was sitting on the edge of her seat in the waiting room, clasped hands drawn tight and squashed between her knees. The doctors had already cleared her, but she didn’t want to leave until she knew for sure that Sam was all right.

“He’ll be okay,” Jill said gently from the chair beside her. “Are you sure  _ you’re _ okay?”

Zoey nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just really worried about Sam. He had such a hard time breathing on the way here.”

Jill wrapped a comforting arm around the teen’s shoulders. “I know it looked scary, but that was normal for the amount of smoke he inhaled. The doctors here are the best in the country. They’ll take care of him.”

  
Zoey nodded again, glancing once more to the door she’d seen Sam and Elliot whisked behind. Her detail was spread out around the room, keeping an eye on the few people waiting with them.

A sudden influx of suited agents poured into the room, spreading out and ushering everyone out of the room. Zoey watched with wide eyes, standing with Jill as it dawned on her what was happening.

“Oh, crap,” she muttered.

Sure enough, Bartlet strode into the room, his face a mask of concern and determination. Hoynes was right on his heels, both men’s eyes searching the waiting room. Zoey straightened as they both noticed her and rushed to her side.

“Zoey!” Bartlet grabbed his daughter’s arms and pulled her into a bone-cracking hug. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Zoey assured him, but she hugged him back just as tight. “Jill got me out fast.”

Bartlet pulled back far enough to look Zoey over himself, but didn’t release her. “Did the doctors look you over? Did they make  _ sure _ you were okay?” He looked around the room, then turned to Jill. “Where’s the doctor? I want to hear it from them.”

Hoynes couldn’t wait any longer. “Zoey, where’s Sam? Is he okay?”

“We got separated,” Zoey admitted, tears filling her eyes. “Elliot went back for him. The doctors haven’t come out to tell us anything yet.”

“What do you mean, you got separated?” Hoynes asked. “Is he hurt?”

“Sir,” Jill spoke up. “Your son is being seen to right now-.”

Hoynes spun around and moved to the reception desk, his tone low and even but brooking no argument as he spoke with the nurse on duty there.

“What the hell happened?” Bartlet demanded, shifting his hold on Zoey so he could keep one arm around her. “You two were just supposed to be eating lunch!”

“I don’t know!” Zoey cried, her voice tremulous. “There was a fire! Everyone just started panicking!”

A small commotion at the door heralded the arrival of Josh, CJ, Toby, and Danny. The group saw Zoey huddled into her father and hurried to her side.

“Zoey, are you all right?” Josh asked.

Zoey nodded. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Toby asked, glancing between Zoey, Jill, and Bartlet.

“What do you mean I can’t see him? I’m his god-damned father!”

Hoynes’ voice boomed around the room, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

The nurse stood firm in the face of Hoynes’ fury, but she was clearly unsettled. “Sir, I understand you’re upset-,” she tried to say in a placating tone.

“Upset?” Hoynes thundered. “ _ Upset _ ? You’re keeping me from seeing my son! Try  _ enraged _ !”

CJ leaned closer to Zoey. “His son went to lunch with you and Sam? Which one? Jake? Jamie?”

Zoey shook her head and opened her mouth to reply, but movement at the reception desk stopped her.

Apparently done arguing, Hoynes tried to just brazen his way to the exam rooms. The nurse moved into his path quickly, hands out. “Sir, you can’t go back there.”

“My son’s life was endangered barely an hour ago, and you think you can stop me from seeing for myself that he’s okay?” Hoynes cried. “Either you step aside, or-.”

“John?”

Utter silence fell over the room as all eyes shifted to a very confused Deputy Communications Director. Sam was completely disheveled, his suit rumpled and sooty, but he was standing steadily on his own two feet as he stared in surprise at the vice president. Behind him stood Elliot, no less unkempt but alert and studying the faces in the room.

Hoynes stared blankly at Sam for a long moment, his eyes sweeping over Sam from head to toe. He took a hesitant step around the nurse, then another. Then, in half a heartbeat, he barreled over to Sam and swept him into a bear hug.

Danny frowned slightly and glanced at CJ, then Toby, then Josh. “Did Sam just call the vice president, ‘John’?”

CJ nodded numbly

Hoynes finally pulled back, his hands coming to rest on Sam’s shoulders. He ducked his head slightly, catching Sam’s eyes. “Are you all right? What did the doctor say?”

“I’m fine,” Sam assured him. “They just gave me and Elliot some oxygen for smoke inhalation, but we’re free to go.”

Elliot snorted. “ _ Actually _ , the doctor said he wanted Sam to stay for a few more hours for observation, but Sam decided he was fine and that he wasn’t about to sit around doing nothing but breathe for a couple hours.”

Sam shot him a glare. “You agreed with me!”

“Hey, where you go, I go,” Elliot replied.

The worry lingered on Hoynes’ face. “Maybe you should listen to the doctor and do as he suggests . . .”

Sam adamantly shook his head. “I’m fine.” He turned his attention on the rest of the room, searching for Zoey. “Zoey? Are you . . .” The words died on his tongue when he noticed who else was in the room with them. “Uh . . .”

Toby stepped forward. “What the hell?” he yelled. “It was a simple lunch!  _ How _ could you turn  _ lunch _ into a  _ crisis _ ?”

Sam was grateful to Toby for his intervention, but his words still triggered his defensiveness. “Hey, it wasn’t  _ my _ fault! I didn’t start the fire!”

Toby rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Okay, Billy Joel. Next time, though? Order in.”

“It was just an accident,” Zoey spoke up. “I don’t think it was on purpose.”

“Even if it was, the sprinklers never activated,” Elliot said gently. “A code violation like that requires an investigation.”

“I want a  _ full _ report on what happened today, start to finish,” Bartlet ordered, his voice hard. “If there is  _ any _ sign of criminal activity or negligence, I want it prosecuted.”

“Dad,” Zoey said.

“I’ve got some favors I can call in if necessary,” Hoynes added darkly, hands slipping from Sam’s shoulders to plant on his hips.

Sam startled, looking at him. “That’s not-.”

“We’ll take care of it and keep you  _ both _ fully informed, sirs,” Elliot stated, cutting Sam off.

Bartlet nodded in satisfaction. “Good man.” He turned to Hoynes. “Let’s get the kids home to rest.”

The ‘kids’ in question immediately began to protest.

“I’m  _ fine _ , there’s nothing  _ wrong _ -.”

“. . . not a  _ kid _ , I’m an  _ adult _ . . .”

CJ cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me.”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at her.

CJ pointed at Sam. “Explain.”

Sam glanced up at Hoynes, then over at the amused and expectant look on Toby’s face. His eyes skipped over the others in the room before landing back on CJ. “Um . . . the Secret Service found out that . . . that I’m actually Charlie Hoynes?”

Blank stares from Josh, CJ, and Danny met the proclamation. Sam tried to find the words to explain further, but nothing that came to mind seemed right. He turned a pleading look on Toby.

Toby rolled his eyes. “Go on, get outta here. I’ll give them the basic information, but you’re coming in tomorrow to fill in the gaps.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Zoey pointed out.

Toby nodded. “It is, but a member of the press just got the scoop of the century. We’re  _ all _ coming in tomorrow.” He turned back to Sam. “I expect you in the office at nine a.m. sharp.”

Sam nodded. Relief colored his expression. “Thanks, Toby.”

Bartlet herded his daughter from the room as the Secret Service agents began to clear the way. Wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders, Hoynes did the same, continuing to pepper Sam with questions about what had happened at lunch. Elliot nodded at Toby, who nodded back, before following his charge from the room.

CJ suddenly whacked Toby on the arm with surprising strength. “You  _ knew _ ?”

Toby stared flatly at her. “Ow?”

The shocking news and the ensuing repercussions began to coalesce into a picture for Danny. He turned stunned eyes to Toby. “Sam . . .  _ Sam _ is  _ Charlie Hoynes _ ?”

Toby nodded. “I know the basics, but you can get the full story from the horse’s mouth in the morning. Let’s head back to the office for some privacy and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Their group started to move towards the exit, CJ and Danny unable to wrap their brains around the new discovery and continued to ask question after question that Toby determinedly ignored. No one paid any notice to how silent Josh had been the entire time.

* * *

end chapter 9


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! 
> 
> I wanted to drop a quick note about Josh. I didn’t intend for anything to appear as character bashing (I would have tagged if I had), but I can see how it looks. I needed to build some conflict surrounding various aspects in Sam’s life, and Josh was the obvious choice. However, I want to clarify that I actually love Josh as a character- he ranks up there as one of my favorites. I promise that he redeems himself by the end. After all, what friendship doesn’t have its peaks and valleys?
> 
> Also- the scene where Josh comes to Sam’s apartment and fails to notice the bruise on his face at the end of chapter seven. I had debated Josh noticing and commenting on it and had drafted a potential reaction, but it just didn’t fit. Here’s what I had visualized: it was late, it was dim in the apartment, and the bruise was the result of a backhand, so not that big. Josh was consumed with his own issues surrounding 286 and likely didn’t really notice then.
> 
> Finally: on the season 1 episode Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc, CJ makes a visit to see Hoynes and asks ‘Stevie’ if Hoynes has a minute to speak. I have tried to find any sign of who this guy is, and was not able to. So I have decided to make him Hoynes’ press secretary. FYI.
> 
> Thank you for your reviews; only a few chapters left to wrap this up!

_ Saturday, February 14 _

Sam walked into the West Wing, signing in through the security desk and telling himself it was like any other Saturday that he’d come into work. He even convinced himself that his security detail that had been trailing him for a couple of weeks now was normal.

The overprotective family walking behind him made it difficult for him to believe his own rhetoric, however.

It wasn’t until Hoynes had brought him home the day before that Sam fully understood just how restrained they had been behaving. His mother, father, and even both of his brothers had spent the rest of the afternoon fussing over him, barely letting him move for any reason and refusing to let him out of their sight. When the time came that morning for Sam to leave for work, they’d invited themselves along and couldn’t be swayed otherwise.

Sam led the group through the half-lit communications bullpen. He spied Toby at his desk in his office and detoured in that direction.

Toby looked up at Sam’s entrance, then did a double-take at the rest of the second family behind him. He rose to his feet in deference to Hoynes. “Good morning. I see we’ve brought an entourage this morning.”

Sam glanced at his family, catching Jamie’s smirk and Hoynes’ small amused smile. “Yeah. I tried to tell them I was just coming in to talk to my friends, but they insisted.” He shrugged at Toby.

“Suzanne and I are planning to meet with Steve and CJ about the official press release, along with security measures,” Hoynes added.

Toby nodded, eyes flickering over to Jake and Jamie.

“Oh, we have no official purpose here other than to follow Sam around and annoy the shit out of him,” Jamie piped up. 

Suzanne swatted the back of his head.

Toby snorted in amusement, then turned to Sam. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Sam replied sincerely. “I, uh . . . I was pretty sure everyone would be waiting on the other side of the door to pounce, to be honest.”

“They’re all in Leo’s office,” Toby told him. “Waiting to pounce. We decided there would be more room there for everyone, as well as more privacy.”

“I guess we should head that way, then,” Sam stated, though his expression suggested he would rather do anything but.

Toby nodded. “Before we do, I’d like to take this moment to declare a fully satisfying ‘I told you so’.”

Sam winced. “Are they mad?”

“Surprised, mostly,” Toby answered. “They’re looking forward to hearing the details from you, though. Are you ready for this?”

“Does it matter?” Sam asked wryly.

Jake’s voice suddenly rang out. “ _ Yes _ , it does.”

Sam and Toby turned to look at him.

Jake had a serious expression on his face. “Sam, if you’re not ready to do this, then we’re leaving right now and heading back home.  _ You’re _ the one who’s having to make entire changes to your whole life.  _ You _ get to call the shots. Just say the word, and we’re out of here.”

Sam met the eyes of his brothers, his mother, and his father, seeing their unwavering, unconditional support for whatever he chose. He smiled faintly and turned back to Toby.

“I’m ready,” he said, quiet but firm. “I’d like to introduce them to my family.”

Toby patted Sam on the back and gestured to the door of his office with his other hand. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

The West Wing was much quieter on the weekends, leaving very few people to notice the unusual group making its way to Leo’s office. Toby entered first, followed closely by Sam.

Leo was seated behind his desk, clad in a sweater in deference to the day off from work he was supposed to have. Josh was sitting across from him, his expression for once unreadable, but his entire frame practically vibrating with tension. Danny was seated next to him, his attention split between Josh and an impatiently pacing CJ, but upon Sam’s entrance, his gaze had swung to him.

Sam, however, was staring at Ron Butterfield in surprise. “Agent Butterfield?” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you to join us.”

Butterfield nodded at Sam from his position next to Leo’s desk. “Your father called me.”

Josh gave the faintest jerk at the words.

“Agent Butterfield’s here to help discuss security expectations once you give the official press release,” Leo explained, standing. He moved to shake Hoynes’ hand. “John. Suzanne, it’s good to see you again.”

“Hello, Leo,” Suzanne greeted warmly.

Everyone spread out to claim chairs and couches. Sam felt the attention in the room shift to him once everyone was settled, and he nervously cleared his throat. He looked at CJ, then Josh. “I, um, I’m not sure where to start.”

CJ did not have the same problem. “How about starting with the fact that you knew that you were Charlie Hoynes for  _ two weeks _ and didn’t bother to tell us?”

“CJ.” Toby’s tone held a warning.

Which CJ promptly disregarded. “No, Toby, I want to know why. Didn’t you trust us?”

Sam winced. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what?” CJ demanded.

Sam sighed. “I’ve been trying to answer that question since I found out. There’s no good answer; I just . . . I wasn’t ready to tell anyone until now.”

“But you were ready to tell  _ Toby _ two weeks ago,” Josh suddenly said.

Sam was stunned at the cold anger and betrayal he found in Josh’s eyes. He dropped his gaze.

“All right, that’s enough,” Jamie cut in sternly. “We didn’t agree to have this meeting so you could berate Sam and make an already difficult situation worse. He obviously didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but it’s  _ his _ life, and it was  _ his _ choice. If you can’t understand that, then we’re leaving.”

Josh’s jaw clenched, and his gaze moved to Leo’s desk. CJ, on the other hand, softened at the words and apologized to Sam.

Sam met her eyes earnestly. “I never meant to exclude you guys; I swear.”

Danny leaned over in his chair. “Toby gave us the general idea of what happened. Do you mind if I ask you some questions? You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Sam nodded.

“We’re going to need to go over the timing for publishing your article,” Butterfield told him. “You’ll get first print, but we need to make sure Sam’s safety is secured before then.”

“Of course.” Danny turned back to Sam. His recorder was in plain view, but not intimidating, given what it represented to Sam. “All right, Sam. I take it you’re still going by ‘Sam’?”

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

“Can you tell us how this discovery came about?” Danny began.

Carefully, haltingly, Sam answered each question Danny posed. The veteran reporter’s skill at directing the flow of conversation kept Sam at ease, even as CJ and Josh interjected questions of their own here and there. Questions about the Seaborns, and about Congressman Winters’ own encounter with the Secret Service were deflected or outright shut down by Butterfield. Undeterred, Danny found plenty else to ask, going so far as to direct questions at Sam’s family as well.

Finally, after nearly two hours had passed, Danny switched off his recorder and pocketed it. “Thanks, Sam,” he said. “You did really well.”

“So now what?” Jamie asked.

Butterfield took a step forward. “Now we discuss how we’re going to handle the release of this information.” He turned to Danny. “Mr. Concannon, I’ll be in touch with you later today, but I’m going to have to ask you to excuse yourself from the room.”

Danny nodded and stood. “I’ll be waiting,” he promised, then left.

CJ moved into the chair that Danny had vacated. “This story is going to go viral,” she stated. She glanced over at Hoynes, then turned back to Sam. “The press are going to want to talk to you.” Her gaze swept over the rest of the Hoynes family. “ _ All _ of you.”

“I’ll have Steve coordinate with you on arranging the press conference,” Hoynes assured her, referring to his own press secretary. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for Steve to take the lead, since it’s my family involved.”

CJ nodded. “I understand. We’ll need to meet and make sure that we agree on the message, since I’ll likely get my fair share of questions.”

“We also need to discuss the timing of the press conference,” Butterfield added.

“Wait,” Josh said. He looked at Sam. “Are you going to get a Secret Service detail?”

Hoynes gave Sam a pointed look. Sam shrugged sheepishly.

“He’s had one since December,” Toby spoke up. “You know that big guy at the door to the communications bullpen?”

“Yeah,” Josh replied. CJ nodded.

“That’s Elliot,” Sam said. “Agent Price. He’s the head of my detail.”

“We’re going to continue with the regular detail assignment for now,” Butterfield stated. “I would, however, like for Sam to consider moving into Observatory Circle for the meantime.”

“What?” Sam blurted out. “Why?”

“We were able to secure your apartment while your identity was concealed from the public,” Butterfield told him. “Eventually, you should be able to move back, but as soon as the press conference happens, your public profile is going to be elevated. It’ll be safer for you to stay in a more secured location; we can protect you from the press and the public much easier that way.”

“It would make your father and I feel better if all three of you boys were where we could keep an eye on you for now,” Suzanne said.

Sam relented, nodding.

Hoynes glanced at his watch. “I asked Steve to come into the office this morning,” he stated. “He should be here any minute. CJ, if you have the time, would you like to join us?”

“Of course,” CJ replied.

“Toby?” Hoynes added. “I’d like for you to handle the organization of the release.”

“Of course, sir,” Toby replied.

Hoynes, Suzanne, Toby, and CJ all stood and left the office.

Josh rose to his feet as well. “I should get going too. I need to get back to work.” He turned to Jake and Jamie. “Good to see you guys again,” he said before hurrying out.

Sam abruptly stood and hurried after him. “Josh!”

Josh slowed his pace, allowing Sam to catch up, but didn’t stop. “What do you need, Sam?” he asked shortly. “I’m busy.”

“I wanted to apologize for not telling you about all this sooner,” Sam said.

“You said it yourself,” Josh replied. “You weren’t ready to tell us. Well, me and CJ, at least.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Sam insisted. “I mean, how do you say, ‘oh by the way, turns out I was kidnapped at birth’?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

Sam put his hand on Josh’s arm, stopping their forward movement. “Josh, come on. I’m sorry. I should have told you. You’re like my brother.”

Josh shook off Sam’s hand. “Turns out, you’ve actually got two  _ real _ brothers in there,” he pointed back towards Leo’s office, “that you never thought to mention.” He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “I should have seen this coming. I mean, the whole thing with Winters backing out? You’ve been playing both sides from the beginning, probably in on it with Hoynes, sabotaging our chances with 286.”

Sam jerked back in shock. “What? Josh, no!”

“Save it, Sam,” Josh snapped. “You want someone who buys what you’re selling, then go talk to Toby. Clearly  _ he’s _ bought into your excuses hook, line, and sinker.”

He stormed away, leaving Sam staring after him, hurt and confused.

* * *

With Hoynes and Suzanne tied up planning for the press release, Jake and Jamie managed to convince Sam to go out to lunch before heading over to his apartment to pack what he would need for his temporary move to Observatory Circle.

Sam directed his brothers to a nice restaurant not too far from the White House that tourists tended to ignore. The patrons and wait staff didn’t even give them a second glance as they led the brothers and a couple of agents from their Secret Service details to a couple of tables and took their drink order. Sam spared a thought for Elliot, who had been given the day off to recuperate from the fire, and made a mental note to check in with him later to see how he was doing.

“I’m glad you agreed to stay with us at home,” Jake said once their waitress had left. “I’m not worried about the press so much as I am about the whackos out there and what  _ they _ might do.”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a cop,” Jake reminded him. “I’ve seen all sorts of crazy things. Like this one lady who became so obsessed with this teacher that she was convinced they were in love when he accidentally knocked into her and excused himself. She took to following him around and sending him gifts; by the time we arrested her, she’d been following the poor guy everywhere in a wedding dress. Oh, and there was this other case I worked where this guy, a high-powered executive, real upstanding citizen, would fixate on these interns in his office. First, he’d-.”

“ _ Jesus _ , Jake!” Jamie exclaimed, glancing at Sam. “Give us nightmares, why don’t you?”

Jake followed his gaze and saw Sam’s pale face. “Sorry, Sam,” he said. “I just . . . I’m glad you’ll be safe with us.”

“And with the Secret Service shadowing you 24/7, you don’t need to worry about stuff like that,” Jamie added.

Their waitress returned with their drinks and passed them out. The boys gave her their orders, then returned to their conversation.

“So what happened earlier with Josh?” Jamie asked Sam. “You came back to the office looking upset.”

Sam let out a heavy sigh. “He’s pretty mad at me for not telling him the truth when I first found out. And that I told Toby before him.”

“That’s not his call,” Jake stated firmly.

Sam shrugged. “He’s right, though. He’s my best friend, and I kept this from him. I think I really hurt him; he’s never been  _ this _ mad at me before.”

“I only know Josh in passing, having met him a few times,” Jamie stated. “Do you think maybe you kept it from him because he used to work for Dad?”

“I . . . can’t say that my reasons were  _ that _ well-formed,” Sam admitted. “Maybe? I mean, I had plenty of chances to come clean. I just . . . couldn’t. Till now.”

“What changed?” asked Jake.

Sam met Jake’s eyes, then Jamie’s. I guess . . . I guess it finally clicked that this was real.”

Jamie smiled at his brother. “Josh might be mad now, but if he’s your best friend as you say, he’ll get over it.”

Their conversation turned lighter as their food arrived. Feeling slightly guilty for his earlier choice of topic, Jake directed their conversation towards sailing, remembering a throwaway comment from Sam from their first family dinner. It wasn’t long before all three were laughing and teasing each other over lunch.

After Sam had won the tussle over the bill, they stood, discussing the items Sam would need to pack when an angry, commanding voice froze everyone in their tracks.

“Samuel!”

Jake and Jamie’s confused looks turned to concern at seeing the faint tremors running through Sam. They looked around for the cause, their eyes landing on a tall, broad man with silver hair and blue eyes heading for their group. 

The Secret Service agents accompanying them immediately moved to either side of the brothers. Jamie’s guard, Elijah, stepped in front of Sam.

“Mr. Winters, you’ve been ordered by the Secret Service  _ and _ the FBI to keep your distance from Sam,” he stated firmly.

Winters glared at Elijah, not at all cowed. “I was already here for lunch. I simply want a word with my nephew.”

“I’m not your nephew,” Sam countered. Jake and Jamie could hear the courage in his voice and wondered at the man who had prompted it.

“Sam, who  _ is _ this guy?” Jake asked, his tone low and his body tensed for action.

Winters fixed a stern look on Sam that brooked no argument. “Samuel, a word. Now.”

Around them, patrons and several wait staff had stopped what they were doing to watch the brewing confrontation. Jamie counted no less than six cell phones pointed their way, recording everything. “Maybe we should move this to somewhere private,” he suggested.

Elijah was thinking along the same lines. He turned to the other agents, giving them a nod. Jamie tugged on Sam’s arm. “Come on.”

Winters’ face reddened at being denied his opportunity to confront Sam. “Don’t you walk away from me!” he yelled, shoving past Elijah to grab Sam’s arm.

Elijah moved to stop Winters, but Jake was faster. Grabbing Winters’ hand, he expertly dislocated Winter’s thumb to break the hold, then twisted his arm up behind his back. Winters howled in pain as Jake slammed him, face down, on their table with a clatter of dishes.

Sam stared in shock at the scene, not even noticing Jamie wrapping an arm around him and urging him away.

Elijah took over from Jake, allowing Jake to hurry to Sam’s other side and join the rest of the agents in rushing them out of the restaurant. Winters’ pained cries and promises of retribution chased after them.

Sam was trembling and gasping for breath, on the verge of a panic attack as he was pushed into their SUV. His eyes sought out Jake, the last to jump in. “You shouldn’t have done that . . . he’s . . . you shouldn’t have done that . . .”

Jamie gripped Sam’s shoulders. “Sam, what’s wrong?” He glanced over his shoulder at Jake. “He’s really shaken up. Should we take him to the hospital?”

Sam shook his head. “No! I don’t need the hospital!”

“You might need one if you don’t calm down,” Jake told him, leaning against Jamie to reach out and grip Sam’s arm. “You’re about to hyperventilate.”

“We’re on our way back to Observatory Circle,” Jake’s primary agent, Tom, called from the front, one hand pressed to his ear. “Your parents are going to meet us there.”

“What?” Sam cried. “No! Why?”

Tom frowned in confusion. Jake and Jamie were incredulous.

“Sam, that guy tried to grab you back there,” Jamie said slowly. “We need to tell Mom and Dad.  _ Especially _ before they hear about it from the press.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Sam insisted. “I’m fine.”

“He called you his nephew,” Jake recalled. “Who  _ was _ he?”

“He’s my . . . he’s Chelsea Seaborn’s brother,” Sam stammered. Wide, panicked eyes sought out Jake. “He’s a very powerful man; he holds grudges against people who embarrass him. You shouldn’t have hurt him.”

Jake hardened. “It’s just a dislocated thumb. He should be grateful it’s not worse.”

Sam shook his head, his breaths growing shorter again. “No, he won’t let this go. He’ll do something to ruin you. I’ve seen it before.”

Jake’s eyes blazed in anger. “I’d like to see him try.”

“We’re here,” Tom announced from the front as the SUV rolled to a stop.

Jake and Jamie hopped out amid a swarm of Secret Service agents, pulling Sam with them and practically manhandling him into the residence. Jake steered his brothers up the stairs and into the library, which had become Sam’s favorite room. A group of sofas were placed near a window in the far corner. Jake and Jamie pushed Sam onto one, then sat on either side of him, arms around his shoulders.

“Your parents are five minutes out,” Tom told the trio. “I’m heading into the office to help Elijah process Winters and add the incident to the casefile on him. The rest of your teams are on the grounds, and I’ll send some agents to pack a bag for Sam. Send me a list and I’ll have it brought over tonight.”

“Thanks, Tom,” Jake said gratefully. Tom nodded and slipped out the door.

Sam’s panicked breaths were all that was left, filling the air between them. Jamie rubbed his back while Jake whispered soothingly to him, but nothing seemed to calm him down.

In no time at all, Hoynes and Suzanne burst into the room, heads turning left and right. Spying their boys, they all but ran to them, crouching before Sam.

“Sam, are you okay?” Suzanne demanded.

“What the hell happened?” Hoynes added. 

Sam immediately latched onto his father, hands gripping his arms tight. “Jake was just protecting me!” he told Hoynes. His panic was starting to bubble up into his chest again. “You need to stop him!”

Hoynes’ confusion deepened. “Stop who?”

“Winters,” Jamie told him. “That’s what Tom called him.”

“I don’t understand,” Suzanne said. “The Secret Service just told us that someone tried to grab Sam at lunch, and that they brought you back here.”

“This guy came up to us as we were leaving the restaurant and demanded to speak to Sam,” Jamie explained. “We tried to leave when he pushed past Tom and grabbed Sam’s arm. That’s when Jake twisted his arm to make him let go.”

“You can’t let Chris do anything to Jake,” Sam insisted, his eyes pleading. “Please!”

“Okay, okay,” Hoynes soothed, gently squeezing Sam’s shoulders. “Nothing is going to happen to Jake. I promise.”

Sam settled at the words, all but sagging against his parents’ hands. Suzanne slid onto the sofa beside him, gently nudging Jamie aside.

“Sam, why are you so worried about that guy?” Jake asked. His eyes were narrowing slightly as the implications began running through his mind.

Sam released Hoynes, only to wrap his arms tightly around himself. “Uncle Chris doesn’t like it when people take advantage of him,” he said vaguely. “He  _ really _ doesn’t like it when you embarrass him.”

Warning bells began to ring in Hoynes’ ears. “What do you mean?”

Sam tensed at the low tone. “Nothing,” he said, trying to backpedal. “Just that . . . he doesn’t like it. Who would?”

Pieces were coming together to form a picture that Hoynes didn’t like. “You said he grabbed Sam’s arm?” he asked Jamie.

Jamie nodded.

Hoynes turned back to Sam. “Has he done anything like that before?”

Sam couldn’t meet his father’s eyes.

Hoynes felt anger beginning to rumble through him. “Sam,” he said, barely keeping the lid on his temper. “Has Winters ever laid a hand on you?”

The tension in the room seemed to build as everyone waited for Sam’s answer.

“It . . . It’s not like that,” Sam replied.

Hoynes cursed under his breath and rose to his feet, pacing back and forth before the couch.

“Then what  _ is _ it like?” Jake asked.

Sam looked at him. “He just grabs my arm if I’m not paying attention.”

“What else?” Suzanne asked quietly.

Sam turned to her, his eyes dropping to the necklace she wore to avoid her eyes. “He, um . . . he’s slapped me a couple times. Mostly for mouthing off. He wouldn’t have done it if I’d kept my mouth shut.”

Jamie looked sick. “How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t see him all that much,” Sam answered. “He’s here in DC most of the time, and he’s left me alone for the most part. I mean, I was sixteen the last time he really-.”

Whatever Sam had been about to say was abruptly cut off by the sound of shattering glass. Sam jerked in surprise, his eyes flying to the remains of a vase that had met the wall in a grisly end. Standing feet away was Hoynes, panting in anger, eyes ablaze.

“John!” Suzanne said sharply.

Hoynes was beyond listening. “That son of a bitch has the gall to manhandle  _ my _ son?” he thundered.

“Dad,” Jamie tried.

“He laid a hand on  _ my _ child?” Hoynes continued. “He has  _ no idea _ the hellfire I’m about to rain down on his head!”

Even Jake began to look disturbed. “Dad,” he said.

Hoynes began pacing furiously once more. “He thinks he can get away with hurting you, he’s got another thing coming! When I get my hands on him-!”

“Dad!” Sam cried.

Hoynes froze, along with everyone else in the room.

Unmindful of the shock that his address had caused, Sam continued on. “It’s not worth it,” he insisted. “It’s not that bad. Today was a freak occurrence, and he won’t do it again. I don’t want him to do anything to you over something so inconsequential.”

Hoynes crossed the room to kneel before Sam once more. He pressed a palm to Sam’s cheek, looking into his eyes. “You’re wrong,” he said firmly. “ _ You _ are worth it.  _ No one _ has the right to lay a hand on you, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before I sit back and let  _ any _ one get away with doing it. And you’re damn right he won’t do it again, because I’m going to make sure of that.”

Sam blinked at him, speechless.

Hoynes pulled Sam forward into a tight hug, dropping a kiss on his temple before passing him over to Suzanne’s waiting arms. Suzanne pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Your father and I have to go destroy someone’s political career. Do you think you and your brothers can find something to occupy your time?”

Sam let out a startled laugh.

“We’ve got that covered,” Jamie assured her.

Suzanne nodded. “Good,” she said, her eyes glinting with a fierce determination Sam had never seen before. “Sam, be sure to give CJ a call sometime today, too. She has some questions for you.”

Sam nodded as Hoynes and Suzanne hugged his brothers farewell, then left.

Jake stood. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get that list together for Tom, then we can introduce Sam to the Hoynes family Valentine’s Day tradition.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked, his curiosity settling his nerves.

Jamie grinned. “Murder movie marathon!”

“Nothing says ‘I love you’ like jealous, homicidal rage,” Jake added.

Sam laughed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet by his brothers.

* * *

end chapter 10


	11. Chapter Eleven

_ Monday, February 16 _

The press briefing room on Monday morning was packed full of reporters, leaving standing room only. Sam couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen quite so many members of the press in one room, and given that they’d been summoned with only the promise of major news with no additional clues, Sam was impressed with CJ’s acumen with the media.

The room was buzzing with a growing energy as various reporters tossed suppositions back and forth. Ringed around the room, Sam could just make out members of his security detail blending in among the press. Elliot was hovering protectively nearby with Hoynes’ primary agent, Carl. Hoynes was standing beside Sam, waiting patiently for the press conference to begin.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Sam.

Sam gave him a smile, but it felt pained. “Honestly? I feel terrified.”

Hoynes frowned in concern. “You don’t have to be here for this,” he stated. He gestured to where CJ was going over her notes with Steve. “We can tell Steve and CJ right now to give the press the prepared statement, and I’ll handle all the questions myself.”

Sam felt very tempted to take the out being offered, but . . . “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I want to do this.”

Hoynes smiled fondly at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Sam’s smile turned shy.

CJ chose that moment to approach, giving father and son both a searching look. “It’s just about that time. You two ready?”

Sam nodded, feeling his nerves return.

“All right,” CJ continued. “Just like we talked about. And Sam? I’ll be right there with you the whole time. If you get uncomfortable or if you want to stop, just give me the signal.”

With a pat on his back, CJ moved to her podium and confidently called the room to order.

“Good morning,” she greeted everyone. “We’re going to do this a little out of order today. We’ll have our usual briefing at ten this morning, but for this briefing I have a prepared statement to read.”

CJ looked down at her folio. “Twenty-seven years ago, the youngest son of Vice President Hoynes was abducted from the National Mall. Despite extensive investigations and searches, no trace of him was ever found. During the course of background checks run by the FBI and Secret Service for President Bartlet’s administration, Vice President Hoynes’ son was discovered to be Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn. Vice President Hoynes is here with us today to take your questions.”

At his cue, Hoynes stepped into view as every reporter in the room jumped to their feet and began hollering questions at him. Hoynes strode purposefully toward the podium amid flashes of photographs, smiling and nodding at CJ as he took her place.

Sam hesitated a moment, then followed after his father. As soon as he moved into view, the attention of the press shifted in his direction. Sam swallowed his nervousness and kept his eyes on Hoynes’ encouraging look, joining him at the podium.

With a final, assessing look over Sam, Hoynes turned to the crowd and pointed at one of the reporters. “Roger?”

The din settled as Roger Salier from News Center 4 called out the first question. “Mr. Vice President, what steps have been taken to verify your son’s identity?”

Sam began to relax slightly as the questions began to follow the same track that Danny’s had the previous Saturday. He stood beside Hoynes, content to let his father take the lead, until Katie Witt called his name.

“Sam?”

Sam’s eyes zeroed in on the reporter. “Yes, Katie?” he replied, moving closer to the mic as Hoynes yielded his position at the podium.

“Have you spoken to the Seaborns recently about your identity as Charlie Hoynes?” Katie asked.

“Yes,” Sam replied, knowing better than to elaborate.

Katie was undeterred. “What have they said in regards to their culpability in your abduction?”

Hoynes moved closer, his hand on Sam’s back keeping Sam in place. “The FBI is currently looking into the circumstances of Sam’s disappearance. Once their investigation is concluded, we’ll share that information then.”

“Are you going to continue to go by the name Sam Seaborn?” Chris Seager abruptly called.

Sam glanced up at Hoynes, finding no recrimination or pressure for his answer. Sam turned back to Chris. “I’m still going to use ‘Sam’ for now. I haven’t made any other decisions beyond that.”

The reporters surged forward again, this time calling for both Sam and Hoynes. Together, the two took questions and expertly fired back answers without hesitation. Before long, CJ slid between them and the podium.

“All right, folks, that’ll do it,” she said. “I’m sure you all have some quick calls to make. See you all again at ten.”

Sam found himself being ushered by Elliot through the path that his detail had made through the throng of reporters still calling his name. Once they made it out of the briefing room and into a more secure section of the West Wing, he turned to find Hoynes behind him, with CJ and Steve quickly following.

“That went really well,” CJ told them. “You did a great job.”

“I agree,” Steve chimed in. “I expect we’ll see more questions at the next briefing, along with requests for interviews. We’ll head that off for now, but we may need to agree to sit for some.”

“We’ll run those by you before agreeing to any of that,” CJ assured them. “Danny was able to delay his article’s publication to time with the press conference. Hopefully that will help satisfy most of their questions in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Hoynes said. “ _ Both _ of you. You’ve done a fantastic job, especially with only a forty-eight hour notice.”

CJ and Steve nodded at the thanks and took their leave, heads bent together as they strategized their next moves.

Hoynes turned to Sam. “I have a meeting with the HUD secretary in five minutes. Since we missed breakfast today, how do you feel about meeting for lunch?”

Sam nodded, smiling. “Sounds good. Is 12:30 okay?”

“That works for me.” Hoynes hesitated a moment, then drew Sam into a brief hug, squeezing tightly before releasing him. “See you then,” he said, then walked down the hall with his security detail.

Elliot’s light hand on his elbow pulled Sam out of his surprise. With a nod to the former SEAL, Sam turned and made his way towards his office to collect his notes for the meeting that Toby had started with their department during the press conference.

He was halfway through the communications bullpen when he realized that the eyes of every staffer in the room had lifted and were following him. His steps faltered slightly upon noticing the attention, but Sam screwed up his courage and resumed his pace.

Toby was holding court with the speechwriters in the Roosevelt room by the time Sam joined him. The Communications Director didn’t miss a beat in his instructions, but just as in the bullpen, the eyes of the staff turned to Sam as he sat down at the table.

Toby tried to carry on for another minute, but his irritation at his staff’s inattention quickly won out.

“Have I suddenly started talking to myself here?” he exclaimed.

Sam looked at him, startled, before glancing around the room. Seeing the eyes on him, he blushed.

Toby rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Frank, the background research on the latest findings on fossil fuel consumption rates is still missing,” he said. “Are you planning on getting that to me anytime in the near future?”

Frank’s head snapped to Toby. “Er, yes, um . . . as soon as possible. I just . . . I’m waiting on a phone call.”

“And have you followed back up on that phone call?” Toby asked, his mild tone doing nothing to conceal his growing frustration.

“No,” Frank admitted. “Not yet. But I will.”

“Today would be good,” Toby stated. “I mean, the administration goals speech is only one week from tomorrow, so it’s not like we’re under a time crunch or anything.”

Frank colored and mumbled something under his breath.

“All right,” Toby continued. “Wyatt, where are we on the statistics on welfare?”

“Uh . . . what?” Wyatt tore his awed gaze from Sam and blinked dazedly at Toby.

“Oh, for . . .” Toby bit off what he was about to say, visibly reining in his temper. “All of you; take twenty minutes to go get your heads on straight, then be back here ready to lock in this draft!”

Chairs scraped the floor as everyone hurried to obey.

“And Frank?” Toby added.

Frank froze, his eyes wide as he looked at Toby.

“ _ Now  _ would be a good time to make that phone call,” Toby told him.

Frank nodded, scurrying out the doors after the rest of the speechwriters, leaving Toby and Sam alone in the room.

Sam let out a groan and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Toby snorted as he dropped into the chair at the head of the table. “This might be the first time they’ve had to work around major news events, but it definitely won’t be their last. They better shape up now, or I’ll toss their asses out of here myself.” He studied Sam as the younger man leaned back in his chair. “I only saw CJ’s statement before the meeting started, but I skimmed Danny’s article in the Post. How did the Q and A go?”

“CJ and Steve gave us their stamp of approval, so okay I guess.” Sam took a deep breath, his next question hesitant. “Did you . . . have you seen Josh yet this morning?”

“Believe it or not, I count it a good day when I can go a whole morning without seeing him,” Toby replied glibly. “That usually means he hasn’t done anything that requires fixing with the press.”

Sam smiled weakly at the comment.

Toby tilted his head slightly. “Is he still walking around with his head up his ass?”

“He’s right to be upset with me,” Sam defended his friend.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Toby stated. “Tell you what; if he hasn’t gotten over his snit by tomorrow, I’ll sic Donna on him.”

Sam chuckled appreciatively, feeling lighter with Toby’s support. “I appreciate that, but this is something I need to fix. Thanks, though.”

Toby shrugged. “Well, while we’re waiting for our writers to come back with their heads screwed on straight, let’s go over where we are on 286 and our next steps,” he suggested, pulling out a folder from the pile on the table and flipping it open.

* * *

Sam hovered nervously at Donna’s desk that afternoon. “Um . . . hi, Donna.”

Donna looked up, a smile blooming on her face. “Sam!” She stood and threw her arms around his neck. “Hi! How are you doing?” She pulled back, light blue eyes searching Sam’s face. “This is just so incredible!”

Sam couldn’t help smiling at her warm greeting. “I’m still having a hard time believing it myself.” His smile faltered as his gaze drifted to Josh’s closed door. He nodded at it. “Is he in there?”

Donna’s look turned sly. “He told me to tell people that he’s not in there.”

“Oh.” Sam’s smile fell completely away in his disappointment. “So he’s not in?”

“No, he told me to  _ tell _ people he’s not in there while he sulks over his contacts list,” Donna told him.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t say that last part,” Sam said wryly.

Donna shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m paraphrasing.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Hey, I’m going to go get some coffee. If anyone asks, the key to Josh’s office is under the plant on my desk.”

Sam’s smile returned. “Thanks, Donna.”

Donna smiled brightly. “For what?” she asked as she collected her purse. With a wink, she slipped past Sam and headed down the hall.

Sam moved to Josh’s door. Leaning close, he listened for sounds of life on the other side, then knocked. “Josh?”

When no answer was forthcoming, Sam retrieved the key and unlocked the door. He pushed it open. “Josh?”

Josh was sitting behind his desk, his eyes glued to his computer screen. “I would have thought that my not answering you the first time would have been a clue that I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Come on, Josh,” Sam said. “You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

Josh leaned back in his chair and turned to face Sam. “Who said I was made? Why would I be mad? My best friend only kept the biggest news of his life from me while single-handedly sabotaging all of my work on 286. Who would be mad?”

Sam ignored the sting in the words. “I screwed up, Josh, I know. I’m here to apologize. And . . .”

Josh folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Sam clasped his hands together, twisted his fingers, then dropped them down at his sides. “And . . . I’ve been thinking about legally changing my name. I’d like it if you went with me.”

Josh stared in silence at Sam for a long moment.

“I haven’t told anyone else I’m doing it yet,” Sam admitted. “I wanted to-.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Josh cut him off. “I don’t have time. I’m a little busy trying to salvage 286 to go on a little side trip. You should ask Toby, though. I’m sure  _ he’d _ be happy to tag along. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Sam felt his heart sink in his chest. “Josh-.”

Josh turned back to his computer. “Be sure to close the door on your way out.”

Sam slunk out of the office, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.

* * *

_ Wednesday, February 18 _

A light knock on his door coaxed Toby out of his revision of the president’s upcoming speech for the NRA. His chin lifted before his eyes, finding Sam hovering in his doorway.

“What’s up?” he asked, his mind reviewing the tasks that had recently landed on Sam’s desk.

“I wanted to let you know . . . give you the head’s up . . . I’m going to be out of the office for a couple hours,” Sam finally said. “But I’ll have my half of the draft finished before I leave for the day.”

Toby was intrigued at Sam’s nervous behavior. “Everything okay?”

Sam nodded vigorously. “Of course!” he exclaimed with a painfully forced breeziness. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Maybe because you’ve been moping around the office like a kicked puppy for the last couple of days?” Toby suggested.

Sam frowned. “I haven’t been  _ that _ bad!”

Toby raised an eyebrow. “Did I see Donna bring you coffee yesterday?”

Sam’s frown shifted to one of confusion. “Yes?”

“Like I said.” Toby set the speech aside. “Can I ask where you’re headed?”

“Um . . . I have an appointment at the courthouse,” Sam admitted. “I, uh . . . I decided I wanted to change my name. Legally.”

Toby nodded thoughtfully. “And you’re going alone?”

Sam lifted a shoulder. “Well, Elliot’s going. And the rest of my detail.”

Toby simply stared at him.

Sam’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I asked Josh to go with me the other day. He, um . . . he said he was busy.”

Toby knew Sam- and Josh- well enough to know he was getting a very watered down version of the story. He glanced at his watch. “What time is your appointment?”

“Eleven,” Sam replied.

Toby waited until he caught Sam’s eyes. “Want some company?”

Sam gave him a surprised look tinged with gratitude. “You don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I did,” Toby replied easily. “Besides, we can work on the administration goals draft together on the way.”

Sam seemed to brighten at the thought. “Okay . . . great! I’ll go get my notes.”

Toby lifted his briefcase onto his desk as Sam retreated to his office, tossing his notes and several folders inside. By the time he had finished and moved to his door, Sam was ready to go.

As the two headed for the parking garage and the SUV that Elliot had called ahead to prepare, Toby noticed a marked improvement in Sam’s disposition. The younger man practically bounced with renewed energy as they argued over phrases and cliches.

Their debate shifted from revised orders of topics to transition subjects to statistics to include or omit as they rode to the courthouse. Neither writer paid much attention to the trip, both jotting notes down as they spoke. It wasn’t until Elliot opened the door in front of the courthouse that either man realized they had arrived.

Toby continued their discussion as they followed Elliot into the courthouse, absently trailing the agent through the halls until Elliot came to an abrupt halt and turned to face them.

“You guys might want to put a pin in it,” he stated, a small smirk on his face. “We’re here.”

Sam startled at the announcement, glancing at his surroundings. A mild sense of anxiety settled over him, radiating out of wide blue eyes.

Elliot’s smirk softened as he knocked on the door before them. At the call to enter, the rest of Sam’s detail entered the room to secure it. With an encouraging nod from Toby, Sam followed them inside.

An older woman in a smart suit was standing before a large mahogany desk, smiling kindly at them. She extended a hand towards Sam, completely nonplussed at the team of Secret Service agents prowling around her office. “Sam? It’s nice to meet you.”

Sam shifted his briefcase to his left hand and accepted the handshake. “It’s nice to meet you too, Judge Briarly. This is my friend, Toby Ziegler.” He gestured to Toby. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

Judge Briarly shook Toby’s hand and smiled brightly at him. “It’s my pleasure,” she told Sam. “Given the circumstances, I’m glad to be able to help you put this to rights.” She indicated the chairs in front of her desk, inviting Sam and Toby to sit as she took her own chair. “Did you bring the forms?”

Sam set his briefcase on his lap and opened it, rustling through the papers inside and handing several over to Briarly.

Briarly accepted the papers, scanning each page carefully. She nodded at several points and signed her name on a few pages. “Well, everything looks to be in order. I’ll have my clerk make you a copy to take home with you and file these right away. Congratulations, Mr. Hoynes.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “That’s it?”

Briarly’s smile widened. “That’s it.”

“Were you expecting a confetti cannon or something?” Toby asked.

Sam huffed a laugh. “Not exactly. I guess . . . I didn’t expect this to be so easy.”

“Normally it isn’t,” Briarly told him. “But when you called the other day, I had my office push some of the initial paperwork through right away. We wanted to help give you back some pieces of your life that were taken from you.”

The care and genuine kindness behind the words touched and humbled Sam. “Thank you,” he said gratefully.

Briarly nodded and stood, bringing Sam and Toby to their feet as well. “Believe me, we were happy to do it. If you’ll come with me, I’ll get you those copies now.”

It was a subdued and thoughtful Sam that rode back to the West Wing with Toby. Toby watched Sam as Sam started down at the copies of the papers that held his new name.

“Are you all right?” Toby asked.

Sam glanced at him, then turned back to the papers in his hands. “I thought it’d feel different.”

“How  _ does _ it feel?” Toby asked.

Sam considered his answer for a moment. “I feel the same,” he finally said. “Like nothing has really changed.”

Toby grunted. “Maybe that’s because you’re still you, no matter what name you go by.”

Sam smiled softly down at his new name.

“You’re still the same stubborn, idealistic writer who can’t find a verb to save his life,” Toby continued.

Sam’s grin widened as he lifted his eyes to Toby’s. “I’ll have you know . . .”

* * *

Sam almost didn’t hear the knock on his open door, his mind entirely focused on the final touches he was putting on the section of the administration goals speech he was working on. Expecting his increasingly impatient boss, he didn’t bother to look away from his laptop screen. “I’m almost there, Toby; just need a few more sentences.”

The voice that answered him did not belong to the Communications Director.

“I guess that answers my question if you were ready to go,” stated Hoynes’ amused tone.

Sam looked up in surprise, blinking at the vice president. “Dad?” he said, most of his brain still swimming in facts about internet security. “Go? Go where?”

Hoynes’ smile turned fond. “Dinner. Remember? Mom was making lasagna tonight.”

Sam glanced at his watch, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline. “I got so wrapped up in this speech, I completely lost track of the time. Can you give me five more minutes?”

“Of course.” Hoynes slipped his hands in his pockets and moved towards the nearest bookshelf as Sam returned to his draft. A startled and delighted smile lit his face upon finding a small, candid shot of his three boys sitting on the top shelf. Hoynes wondered when the photo had been taken, and where; the background didn’t provide many clues.

“And . . . done,” Sam chirped behind him. Hoynes turned in time to see him close his laptop and stand. Sam pulled on his suit coat and his winter coat, then grabbed his briefcase. He paused briefly, his hand hovering over a set of folded papers before picking them up and nodding at Hoynes. “Ready.”

Hoynes gestured for Sam to precede him, then fell in step alongside him. “How’s the big speech coming along?”

Sam winced slightly. “Slower than we’d like,” he replied honestly. “We’re barely putting all the pieces together now, and a lot of it isn’t quite ready to be drafted yet.” He shook his head as they moved into the parking garage, surrounded by their security details. “With the amount of work and time going into it, I’m dreading when this is the official State of the Union address.”

“So is that what you did all day today?” Hoynes asked. “You must have made some good headway then.” 

Sam’s eyes caught Elliot’s as Elliot opened the door to their SUV for them. Elliot quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Not . . . not exactly,” Sam admitted, climbing into the car.

“Oh?” Hoynes said, sliding into the seat beside him.

Doors slammed as the SUV started up. Sam barely noticed as they drove out of the garage and into evening traffic, his eyes glued to the papers in his hand.

“Sam?” Hoynes prompted. “Are you okay?”

Sam nodded. “I, er . . . I went to the courthouse today.” He held his papers out to Hoynes.

Frowning in confusion, Hoynes took the papers and slowly unfolded them. Blue eyes scanned the first few lines before his entire body went rigid in his seat.

The nerves from earlier that day reawoke in Sam’s stomach. “I . . . I hope it’s all right, the name I chose. I . . . maybe I should have asked first . . .”

Hoynes’ eyes lifted to Sam, wide and suspiciously wet. Sam didn’t have time to ask what was wrong before he was grabbed and pulled into a fierce hug.

“It’s more than all right,” Hoynes breathed into Sam’s hair. Pulling back slightly, he pressed a palm to Sam’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Sam’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “For what?”

“For giving us a chance,” Hoynes told him. “I know it hasn’t been the easiest road for you, dealing with all of this. But I’m so grateful to have you back with us.”

“ _ I’m _ the one who should be thanking  _ you _ ,” Sam replied, his cheeks tinged with pink. “You guys have been so patient with me through all of this. I know it wasn’t exactly easy for you, either. And spending this time with you . . .” His eyes lowered. “I wish I’d gotten to grow up with you.”

Hoynes pulled him back into a hug. “You’re with us now,” he said. “That’s the important thing.” 

They pulled away at the same time, Hoynes passing back the papers. The rest of their trip home was spent with Hoynes teasing the story about the trip to the courthouse out of an obliging Sam. The two chatted lightly as the SUV pulled to a stop in front of Observatory Circle, Hoynes deftly maneuvering Sam to lead the way into the unusually darkened house.

Sam didn’t notice the strange stillness as he led the way towards the faint light coming from the dining room, Hoynes right behind him with a slowly growing smile on his face.

“SURPRISE!”

Sam stumbled back at the sudden roar of sound, colliding into his father. Hoynes chuckled as he grabbed Sam’s arms and steadied him. “Easy there.”

Sam stared in shock at the decorations covering the walls, then at the smiling guests crowded in the dining room. “What . . . what’s going on?”

Jamie bounded over to him, grinning brightly. “Happy birthday, Sam!”

Sam frowned. “But my birthday’s not until next month!”

He felt his father’s hands tighten briefly on his arms in surprise. “No, son,” Hoynes rumbled softly behind him. “Your birthday- your  _ real _ birthday- is February eighteenth. Today.”

He released Sam’s arms as Jamie tugged his younger brother over to greet his guests. The surprise never quite left Sam, but he managed to push it aside and say hello to friends and coworkers. His eyes slid over the faces of those gathered, looking for one in particular and not finding it.

Toby and CJ walked up to him, CJ giving him a hug. “This has got to qualify as the biggest surprise for a surprise party,” she said lightly. “You really had no idea?”

“None,” Sam confirmed. He glanced around. “Um . . . have you seen Josh?”

Something close to pity passed over CJ’s face. “Yeah, about that . . . He wanted to be here tonight, but he had a meeting with Senator Clearwater that couldn’t be rescheduled.” Seeing the poorly disguised disappointment on Sam’s face, CJ quickly added, “But maybe he’ll stop by when he’s done?”

Sam gave her a grateful smile. “Maybe,” he agreed, though not quite believing it himself. His eyes found Bartlet on the other side of the room, and he excused himself to go and say hello.

As soon as Sam was out of earshot, Toby snorted. “‘Maybe he’ll stop by’?” he repeated.

“It could happen!” CJ exclaimed.

“And maybe Mary marsh will start supporting the rights of the LGBTQ community,” Toby retorted.

“Hey!” CJ cried. “At least  _ my _ comment wasn’t  _ completely _ unreasonable!”

“Given Josh’s attitude of late, that’s debatable,” Toby said sourly.

Leo chose that moment to join them. “What could you two  _ possibly _ be bickering about now?”

Toby fixed him with an unimpressed look. “Just how long are you going to let Josh continue to run around with his head up his ass?”

Leo sighed heavily. “I’ve tried talking to him. He’s being a bit more stubborn than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“Is there  _ nothing _ you can do?” CJ asked.

Leo shrugged helplessly. “This is something that Josh and Sam are going to have to work through themselves,” he told them. “Short of locking them in a room together, we’ll have to be patient. I wouldn’t worry too much; before you know it, the two of them will be teaming up to antagonize you both again.”

“I’d almost prefer that,” Toby stated, glancing briefly over at Sam. “Sam could really use Josh’s support right now.”

Leo nodded, following his gaze. “I know.”

On the other side of the room, Abbey Bartlet watched as Hoynes and Sam approached Suzanne. Sam handed a set of papers to Suzanne, who unfolded them and read them. Suzanne’s hand flew to her mouth in a gasp, and she grabbed Sam to pull him into a tight hug.

Curious, Abbey approached. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Beaming, Hoynes gently tugged the papers out of Suzanne’s grip and passed them to Abbey. Abbey quickly read through the documents, a grin growing on her face.

“Samuel Charles Hoynes,” she read aloud. She looked up. “Congratulations, Sam! This is great news!”

Sam withdrew from Suzanne’s embrace to smile bashfully at Abbey. “Thanks,” he said. “I have to give credit to Zoey, though. She’s been really great to talk to since this all came about. She’s a good sounding board.”

Pride shone through Abbey’s smile. “I’m glad she could help you. I know she’s glad to have someone around she can talk to as well.”

As if summoned by their discussion, Zoey appeared beside her mother. “Happy birthday, Sam!” she said, smiling. “How surprised were you?”

Sam laughed. “Very,” he replied. “I thought my birthday was next month, on the seventeenth. It never occurred to me that it might not be.”

His parents suddenly grew very still at his side. Sam turned puzzled eyes on them, wondering what was so upsetting about what he’d just said. “What?”

Suzanne smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nothing,” she assured him. “Just . . . March 17th was the day you were taken from us.”

Words escaped Sam at the statement. The thought of celebrating his abduction rather than his birth over the years began to fill his mind, tugging out every memory of past birthdays and repainting them with the truth.

“Well,” Abbey stated, her forced cheerfulness breaking through Sam’s encroaching fog of betrayal as effortlessly as sunshine, “it’s a good thing we’ve got another thing straight. Sam, have you seen the cake? I swear, your mother must have some kind of double life in a bakery.”

“It looks amazing!” Zoey enthused, picking up on her mother’s intent at distraction. “Come on, you have to see it before Jake ruins it!”

“Tell Jake that he’s doing all the dishes if he touches that cake before it’s cut!” Suzanne ordered as Zoey took Sam’s arm and dragged him away. “By hand!”

“That’s never stopped him before,” Hoynes murmured in amusement.

Abbey smiled at Suzanne’s exasperation and handed back the papers she still held. “Are you going to frame these?” she asked.

Suzanne took the papers, smiling ruefully at them. “Would that be a bit too much?”

“Depends on how ostentatious the frame is.” The two women laughed lightly. Seeing Hoynes’ eyes drifting over to Sam, a small frown on his lips, Abbey continued. “Some unsolicited advice, John? Don’t dwell on the Seaborns another minute. You have your son back; healthy, whole, and happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

Hoynes shook off the dark cloud around him and gave Abbey a smile. “Of course,” he said. “You’re right.”

A melodic tune suddenly began playing from his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he checked the screen and brightened. “It’s my parents,” he told them. “I’m going to head to the sitting room. Suz, can you send Sam in five minutes?”

Suzanne nodded, watching her husband answer the call as he wound his way around guests and out of the room.

Abbey reached out and gently squeezed Suzanne’s arm. “Come on,” she said lightly. “Zoey might be a sweetheart, but she’ll actually help Jake steal some of that cake, and I’m fairly confident Sam won’t stop her.”

Suzanne laughed and walked with her friend towards their children, who were beginning to congregate around the confection.

* * *

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know. I just need to grab that book for Zoey. I’ll just be in and out.”

The Secret Service-issued black SUV expertly navigated the streets of the DC suburbs on its way to Sam’s apartment. Sam and Zoey had gotten to talking about Zoey’s civics class and her upcoming paper on legal ramifications on constitutional amendments during the party, and Sam had only been too happy to share what he knew. To Zoey’s delight, that included a resource to cite that Zoey had had some difficulty in tracking down.

“I know,” Hoynes replied easily. “But it’s only been a few days since the press conference, and the public response is still very strong where you’re concerned. It’ll make me feel better to keep an eye on you myself.”

Sam tried to feel frustrated at the implication that he needed a babysitter, but it felt so nice to have someone worry about him that he couldn’t quite manage it. “I still have my security detail, you know,” he reminded his father. “And I’m pretty sure Elliot won’t let anyone get within ten feet of me.”

“While I have every confidence in Elliot and his team, I’m afraid it doesn’t quite replace the reassurance of seeing you’re all right with my own two eyes,” Hoynes replied. “So . . . how did you like your party?”

Sam knew that arguing further would be futile, so he followed the shift in their conversation’s direction. “It was great. Thank you for going through all that trouble; it was nice to celebrate with my friends and family together.”

“It was no trouble,” Hoynes replied. “Trouble would be reserving the Dallas Aquarium, then at the last possible minute switching the party over to the Dallas Zoo.”

Sam was intrigued at the rather specific example. “Jamie?”

“Jake, actually,” Hoynes replied, a small smile on his face. “Your mom gave me  _ one _ job in helping her plan his seventh birthday party. Reserve the venue. Apparently I reserved the wrong one, but I still maintain that her instructions to me  _ clearly _ stated aquarium, and  _ not _ aquarium  _ exhibit _ .”

Sam laughed as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of his apartment building. He waited obediently for Elliot to open the door, finally having been trained out of the habit of just jumping out of the vehicle before his security detail could finish clearing the area. As Hoynes moved to follow, Sam waved him back.

“Really, I’ll be in and out,” he said. “There’s no need for you to come with me.”

Hoynes stilled. “You sure?”

Sam nodded. “I wouldn’t even make  _ Elliot _ come, but I don’t think he’d go for that.”

“And you’d be right,” Elliot said as Sam slid out of the car. He nodded at Hoynes. “We’ll be back in five, sir.”

Hoynes returned the nod and settled back into his seat.

Sam turned and led Elliot into the quiet building, bypassing the elevator and heading up the stairs to his floor to save time. “You  _ could _ stay back, you know,” he called to Elliot over his shoulder. “I mean, I didn’t see any reporters out there.”

“Right,” Elliot said sardonically. “Because it’s only  _ reporters _ we need to keep an eye out for.”

“Elliot, it’s after ten on a Wednesday night,” Sam pointed out as they stepped onto his floor. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Elliot aimed a glare at the back of Sam’s head. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Sam smirked as he neared the door to his apartment. Before he could retort, his arm was suddenly grabbed in a tight grip. He turned to demand the reason for such a sudden move, but the words died on his lips when he saw the fierce concentration on Elliot’s face. His free hand was pressed to his ear, clearly being relayed something important.

“Agent Price with Princeton in Georgetown,” Elliot stated. “Mustang is downstairs- yes, sir.”

Sam’s frown deepened. He tugged his arm out of Elliot’s grip.

“Yes, sir.” Elliot dropped his hand and focused on Sam. “Chris Winters was arraigned this afternoon. The judge held him for bail, which was posted.”

Sam felt a chill ripple through him. “What does that mean for us?”

“Honestly, not all that much that we weren’t already doing,” Elliot replied. “We’ll keep an eye out for him, but the restraining order is still in effect. If you hear from him, though, you’ll need to tell me immediately.”

Sam nodded, perfectly all right with that arrangement.

“Agent Butterfield wants some files that are in our post across the hall,” Elliot continued. “We’ll need to swing through once you grab your book.”

“Or we could divide and conquer,” Sam suggested.

“Sam-,” Elliot began.

“Elliot, it’ll be  _ fine _ ,” Sam insisted. He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “The team didn’t see any sign of danger downstairs, and Chris doesn’t have keys to my place. I doubt he even knows where I live. Get your files. I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.”

Elliot was unhappy, but he couldn’t argue with the logic. “Fine,” he said. “Five minutes. Lock your door behind you. If you’re not back in the hall in that time, I’m coming in after you.”

“Through a locked door?” Sam asked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Elliot replied. “Five minutes starts now.”

Sam turned and unlocked his door, slipping into his apartment and closing the door behind him. He flicked on the lights and, after a brief hesitation, locked his door, but left his deadbolt unengaged.

The book he needed was on one of the bookshelves in his living room; Sam remembered that much. He headed that way, eyes scanning titles for the one he needed. Not finding it on the first shelf, Sam moved to the next bookshelf.

“It’s about time you came home.”

The unexpected voice sounded thunderous in the otherwise silent apartment. Sam’s blood ran cold as he slowly turned around to find Winters emerging from his study. “U-Uncle Chris? What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Your excitable little friend was most helpful,” Winters replied, moving fully into the living room. “I told him I wanted to talk to you, and he gave me the key to your apartment. I figured we could finally talk now that we’re alone.”

Sam took a step back. “You have nothing to say that I want to hear,” he stated with more bravado than he felt.

Winters’ eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. “I disagree. Your  _ friends _ seem to have caused me a great deal of embarrassment.”

Sam felt his temper flare. “You caused  _ yourself _ embarrassment! You tried to grab me in public, in a crowded restaurant!”

Winters nodded. “You’re right,” he conceded. “But we’re not in public now.”

The ominous statement sent a fresh wave of unease through Sam, and he backed into the bookshelf behind him.

Winters shook his head, stepping closer. “I should have known you’d be nothing but trouble the moment my stupid sister brought you to me.”

Sam froze. “What?”

“Chelsea was always prone to impulsiveness,” Winters continued. “The day she brought you to my townhouse, I knew I should have just gotten rid of you then.”

“You . . . you  _ knew _ ?” Sam breathed.

Winters scoffed. “Of  _ course _ I knew; who do you think arranged for the paperwork proving you were Chelsea’s? Never mind the fact that Chelsea is infertile; there was no way for her to become pregnant. And when the news broke of Hoynes’ son having gone missing, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

Sam couldn’t get past his shock. “Wh-Why not give me back? Even anonymously?”

“And risk a major scandal?” Winters retorted. “Besides, Chelsea wouldn’t hear of it. Foolish girl is actually convinced you’re her son, despite never having given birth to you. Even now, facing prison, she’s insisting this is all some big misunderstanding.”

“A  _ misunderstanding _ ?” Sam cried. “You took me from my  _ family _ ; from my  _ life _ !”

Winters stepped forward, mere feet from Sam. “We  _ gave _ you a good life, better than you deserved! You attended the best schools, had  _ every _ advantage, and look at how you repaid me; a Secret Service investigation, public embarrassment of an arrest, and Hoynes throwing around allegations of abuse. All because of  _ you _ .”

Sam’s eyes cut to the door to his apartment, wondering if Elliot had noticed the delay in his return.

Seeing where Sam’s attention had gone, Winters deftly stepped into Sam’s line of sight. “Don’t even  _ think _ about leaving before I’ve had my say.”

“Why are you here?” Sam demanded.

“I told you the other day I wanted a word,” Winters told him. “Given the circumstances since then, I’m afraid the offer I was  _ going _ to make is no longer on the table.”

“What offer?” Sam asked, uneasy.

“The one that would have cleared up this whole mess to both our benefits,” Winters replied. “Unfortunately, Hoynes is now involved and currently generating a significant number of problems for me in the House. I can’t have that.”

Sam shook his head. “What are you saying?”

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I’m afraid I have no choice,” Winters told him. “Hoynes’ time as vice president, while brief, is now over. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll never work in politics again. His reputation will be ruined, and that overzealous son of his will regret  _ ever _ daring to lay a hand on me.”

A sudden surge of panic drove Sam forward. “You can’t do this!” he cried. “They were just trying to protect  _ me _ !”

Winters’ smile was as cold as his name. “And everyone will realize that and know it was all your fault. You could have prevented  _ all _ of this.”

“I won’t let you do this,” Sam vowed.

“And what do you think  _ you _ could do about it?” Winters countered.

Sam cast his mind about, desperately searching his memory for anything he could use as leverage. “I’ll . . . I’ll tell the Secret Service everything I know,” he said. “About the abuse, and about how you manipulated other congressmen. And I’ll tell them about you knowing who I was all along.”

“The word of a boy desperate to save his father carries little weight against the word of a respected congressman,” Winters dismissed.

“Maybe,” Sam agreed, his mind reaching farther back. “But they might be interested to know that you’ve done it before. And paid off people to help you from undisclosed overseas accounts. I seem to remember seeing some statements from when I worked out of your office, after Sanders.” An inspired idea struck him. “How much do you want to bet they’ll also find a paper trail leading from you to people you paid off to cover up my abduction?”

He’d clearly struck a nerve. Winters glared daggers at Sam, a red flush creeping up over his face. “You’ll keep your mouth  _ shut _ ,” he growled. “I made you disappear once; I can make it happen again. This time  _ permanently _ .”

A knock on the door interrupted them. “Sam?” Elliot’s voice called from the other side.

Sam looked past Winters, opening his mouth to call back.

Winters darted forward in a sudden burst of energy. “You shut your mouth!” he barked, wrapping his hands around Sam’s throat. His thumbs came down over the hollow of his throat and started to squeeze.

Sam clawed at the hands, surprised at Winters’ attack. He could hear Elliot knocking again, shouting his name, but was helpless to answer.

Winters’ eyes burned with hatred. “. . . nothing but trouble . . . finally rid of you . . .” His words became garbled amid the rushing in Sam’s ears. Sam dropped to his knees, tugging at Winters’ hands. Winters only tightened his grip, determined to silence Sam once and for all.

Spots began to appear in Sam’s vision. Darkness ringed his apartment as the knocking on his door became pounding. He thought he heard wood splintering, and could have sworn he heard his father’s voice, but gave up the thought as wishful thinking on his part.

Just as he felt himself begin to slip away, the pressure around his throat vanished. Sam fell forward into a pair of arms, coughing and gasping as air rushed back into his lungs. Tears streamed from his eyes unchecked, some from the return of oxygen and some from the sheer relief at having been rescued.

The arms around him became hands gently pulling him upright. Still coughing, Sam’s wet eyes met the terrified face of his father.

“Dad,” Sam tried to say. The word didn’t quite make it past his throat, his lungs greedily keeping all of the air. He looked past Hoynes and saw Elliot effortlessly pinning a protesting Winters face down on the floor, barking into the mic on his wrist.

“Sam?” The way Hoynes said his name told Sam it hadn’t been the first time. “Sam, look at me. Can you speak? Say something!”

Sam turned back to Hoynes. He tried to force another word out of his abused throat, but little more than a squeak came out.

“I’ll have your job for this!’ came Winters’ outraged howl. “All of you! You hear me? You’re finished here!”

Hoynes’ eyes dropped to Sam’s throat. Sam watched in shock and awe as the terror on his father’s face rapidly gave way to a murderous rage the like Sam had never seen. He kept his eyes on Hoynes as the older man suddenly stood, stalked over to Elliot, and shoved him aside. Dropping to his knees, he flipped Winters onto his back and punched him solidly in the face.

“You son of a bitch!” Hoynes shouted, raining one punch after the other down on the man. “Threaten  _ my  _ son?”

Elliot recovered quickly, putting a restraining hand on Hoynes’ arm. “Sir, stop!”

Hoynes shook him off, not even registering Elliot’s presence. Sam tried to call out to his father, but still no sound came out.

“Sir!” Elliot folded himself over Hoynes’ back, wrapping his arms under and over Hoynes’ shoulders and pulling him upright. “Sam needs you right now! He needs medical attention!”

Hoynes continued to strain against Elliot’s grip, wanting nothing more than to end the man who had tried to kill his son. “Let me go! This son of a bitch deserves to-!”

Elliot roughly shook Hoynes. “John!”

The unfamiliar address gave Hoynes pause. Awareness of his surroundings began to creep back into his consciousness.

“Sir, Sam needs you,” Elliot said, his tone calmer now that Hoynes was listening. “He needs his father. I’ll take care of Winters. You need to get Sam to the hospital.”

Hoynes eased in Elliot’s hold, nodding slightly. Cautiously, Elliot released him, but Hoynes’ impulsive rage had passed. The vice president stood and turned to Sam, walking back to him.

As soon as Hoynes was near enough, Sam stumbled to his feet and flung himself into his father’s arms. Hoynes caught him easily, his hug no less tighter than Sam’s.

“Come on,” Hoynes told him quietly. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

Sam turned his head, unable to avoid looking at Winters’ battered and bloody face.

Elliot flipped Winters’ unconscious form onto his side and into a recovery position. Seeing Sam’s attention, he said, “He’s done, Sam. You don’t need to worry about him anymore. Go with your dad to the hospital. I’ll see you there.”

Still wrapped around each other, Hoynes ushered Sam quickly out of the apartment.

* * *

end chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a quick note for this chapter- according to West Wing Wiki, Hoynes attended SMU in Dallas. Their mascot is the Mustang. I decided to use that for Hoynes' Secret Service name. FYI.


	12. Chapter Twelve

_ Thursday, February 19 _

“There’s  _ no way _ this is going to work.”

Sam tossed a half-hearted glare at Jake as they walked through the West Wing towards his office.

On his other side, Jamie gave an amused snort. “How much do you want to bet Toby figures it out in five minutes?”

“Twenty bucks says he gets it two minutes after he sees Sam,” Jake said.

Sam rolled his eyes. He’d known by the time the hospital had released him that he’d have to deal with two frantic parents and an overprotective Secret Service agent, but he hadn’t anticipated his brothers’ refusal to let him out of their sight. “This isn’t what I meant when I agreed to let you tag along with me today,” he stated, his voice hoarse. He winced slightly at the pain that flared in his throat.

The small group walked into Sam’s office, Elliot giving it a once-over before leaving the three brothers alone.

“How do you plan on working when you can barely speak?” Jamie asked, dropping into a visitor chair.

Sam hung up his winter coat. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m a speech  _ writer _ and not the speech  _ giver _ then,” he rasped. He moved to his desk and began shuffling through his notes. “Besides, the administration goals speech is on Tuesday. I don’t have time for a break; there’s still research to do and sift through, meetings to have, drafts to revise . . . Which is why I tried to tell you not to waste time shadowing me today. You’re going to be bored.”

“Maybe, but you also managed to turn a simple lunch into a fire,” Jake pointed out. “You turned  _ another _ lunch into a confrontation where someone tried to grab you, and you were attacked last night while picking up a book. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Yeah,” Jamie added. “And who knows; you might get abducted by aliens on the way to your staff meeting.”

Sam paused and gave Jamie a pointed look. “And just how do you think you being here will stop that from happening?”

Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know; I can tell them that you’re a troublemaker and better off left here with us?”

The comment was made in jest, but the truth of it hit a little closer to home than Sam expected. He turned back to his notes, his movements a little more subdued.

Jake reached out and smacked Jamie on the back of the head, then turned to Sam. “We just want to be here in case you need us,” he stated. “I hate that you’ve been having such a hard time, and I want to be nearby to help.”

Jamie nodded his agreement enthusiastically. Sam smiled faintly.

A brisk knock drew their attention to Elliot standing in the doorway. “You’ve got Senior Staff in ten,” he told Sam. “We need to get moving.”

Sam nodded, stacking the rest of his notes on his folio and lifting it into his arms. “You guys are  _ sure _ you’ll be okay in here?” he asked his brothers. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Jamie waved off his concern. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure we can find a way to entertain ourselves in the meantime.”

The reassurance, if that’s what it was, fell flat. Sam didn’t have time to protest as Elliot shooed him out of the office and on his way.

Sam was several minutes early for the meeting, but was the last to arrive in Leo’s office. He slipped quietly into the room to claim a chair near the back as Leo called them to order.

“I know we’ve got Tuesday’s address at the forefront of our minds with it being only five days away, so let’s get through the other stuff first,” Leo stated. “Who’s up?”

CJ lifted a hand quickly. “There’s a news story developing around the status of illegal immigrants being detained in Texas,” she announced. “It’s only hit the local outlets so far, but it’s got wings.”

“What’s the current status of the immigrants?” Toby asked.

“No one’s been injured so far, and no deaths have been reported,” CJ answered. “But an anonymous inside source is reporting crowded and unsanitary conditions. The public is demanding answers; it’s just a matter of time before it hits national channels.”

Leo jotted down a quick note, then looked over at his deputy. “Josh, get a hold of the Director of ICE and get us some more information. I want to see the full picture before bringing the president in on this.”

Josh nodded. “Got it, Leo.”

Leo turned his attention back to CJ. “In the meantime, if the press asks, tell them the president is ensuring the safety of all our citizens and that he is looking into the matter.”

CJ nodded, writing the instructions down on her notepad.

“What else?” Leo prompted.

“The date for the next G7 Summit has been set for May,” Toby announced. “The preliminary topics seem to include government transparency, trade, and the current stability in the Middle East, but I’m anticipating more information over the next couple of months.”

“Go ahead and get the ball rolling on background research,” Leo told him. “Coordinate with the State Department. Someone over there should be able to help.”

Toby nodded over at Sam, who nodded back.

“Any other new or urgent business before we move on to the administration goals speech?” Leo asked the room at large. 

Everyone glanced around to see if one of the other staffers would speak up.

With nothing forthcoming, Leo continued. “All right, Toby. Where are we at?”

“We’re just about done with the first draft,” Toby answered. “We should be able to finish it this afternoon with one exception. We’re going to need some time with the president to practice for Tuesday so we can do the revisions.”

“I already reserved time in the president’s schedule for tomorrow morning at nine,” Leo told him. “We’ll use the press briefing room after CJ’s initial press briefing. What’s the one exception?”

Josh immediately scowled. Sam blushed and looked down, avoiding looking at anyone. Toby merely rolled his eyes.

“I take it that the work on 286 is going well, then?” CJ joked weakly.

“I saw Winters yesterday,” Josh stated. “I’m hoping he’s finally changed his mind, but I haven’t heard back yet.” He looked pointedly at Sam, who missed it entirely as he continued to examine the folio balanced on his knees.

“You’re not going to,” Leo told Josh firmly.

Josh and Sam both looked at Leo in surprise. Leo’s sympathetic look in his direction told Sam that Leo knew about last night’s events.

“What do you mean?” Josh cried.

“I mean that that door is closed,” Leo said. “We’ll either try our luck as 286 is written, or we’ll shelve it for later.”

Josh spun in his chair to face Sam. “What did you do?” he demanded fiercely.

“Josh!” Leo barked.

Sam flushed in anger. “Nothing!”

CJ frowned. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

Josh steamrolled over CJ’s question. “I  _ sent _ Winters to talk to you! What, did your new family shut him down too?”

“Josh, that’s enough!” Leo snapped. He glanced at the rest of his staff. “All of you, get to work. Josh, you stay.”

No one argued. CJ, Toby, and Sam quickly rose to their feet and walked swiftly out the door. Elliot fell into step behind Sam, not questioning the sudden exodus.

“Seriously, why do you sound like you swallowed gravel?” CJ asked Sam.

“You sounded fine last night,” Toby chimed in. “Did something happen?”

Sam glanced back at Elliot. Elliot shrugged at him, then nodded.

Sam sighed. “Uncle Chris came to my apartment last night. I was there to pick up a book for Zoey.”

“Wasn’t he issued a restraining order?” Toby asked.

Despite himself, Sam snorted. “That wouldn’t stop him anyway. We got into an argument.”

“What happened?” CJ asked.

Sam hesitated for a brief moment. “Elliot arrested him.”

Toby and CJ stared at Sam in disbelief as they came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. As one, they turned to look at Elliot.

“What  _ really _ happened?” Toby asked the agent.

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed.

“Winters tried to attack Sam,” Elliot answered with far less amusement than expected. “The vice president and I stopped him. Winters is currently in custody on charges of assault and attempted murder.”

Toby and CJ gaped in shock.

“Murder?” CJ echoed.

“What the hell?” Toby cried, his voice blending with CJ’s.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Sam insisted. “He just tried to choke me. Dad and Elliot stopped him before he went too far.”

Sam was still speaking as CJ reached out to lift his chin up. She tugged at his collar to get a closer look at his throat. Sam tried to bat her hands away, but CJ slapped back and continued to loosen his tie.

Toby folded his arms. “‘Just’, he says,” he stated. He shifted a glare to Elliot. “And where the hell were  _ you _ when this was happening?”

Sam finally succeeded in pushing CJ’s hands away and fixed his tie. “Leave Elliot alone,” he told Toby. “I told him I’d be fine on my own. I was only supposed to be gone a few minutes. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Elliot’s expression suggested otherwise, but he remained silent.

“Who else knows about this?” CJ asked.

“Leo, apparently,” Sam answered. “Though I’m not sure how.”

“Agent Butterfield reported the incident to President Bartlet last night once we processed Winters,” Elliot stated. “Leo was with him when he called.”

“My family knows,” Sam added. “My brothers are actually in my office now. They think I’m a walking trouble magnet.”

Toby let out a humorless laugh. “That’s only because they know you.” 

Sam gave him a half-hearted glare.

“Can I get a copy of the incident report?” CJ asked Elliot. “I’d like to start preparing a statement once the press gets wind of this.”

Elliot nodded. “I believe Agent Butterfield was going to contact you today. Check with Carol; it might already be waiting for you.”

“I’m going with you,” Toby told CJ. To Sam, he said, “Meet me in my office at one o’clock. We need to finish the draft and get it to the teleprompter before tomorrow.”

Sam nodded as Toby and CJ changed direction and left. He began to continue down the hall towards his office when a sharp order stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey!”

Sam and Elliot turned around to find Josh storming down the hall towards him. The look on his face promised a fight, and Sam automatically braced himself for it.

“What the  _ hell _ , Sam?” Josh yelled, planting himself in front of his friend. “Destroying this bill wasn’t  _ enough _ for you? Now you have to destroy the career of a good man, too?”

Sam blinked in shock. “Good man?”

Elliot looked around, seeing the attention they were beginning to draw. “Let’s move this somewhere private,” he suggested.

His comment went ignored, but neither Sam nor Josh resisted as Elliot guided them into an unused office nearby. He closed the door behind them and planted himself in front of it.

“Yeah, a good man!” Josh thundered, continuing their argument. “Your uncle took care of you all these years, and you just cast him aside at the drop of a hat? God, you’re like a completely different person! It’s like I don’t even  _ know _ you anymore!”

Sam flushed, hot with anger. “Maybe you should get all the facts straight before taking sides!”

“You want facts? Here’s some facts for you,” Josh fired back. He held up one finger. “You’re suddenly spending  _ all _ your free time with Hoynes.” He lifted a second finger. “You suddenly decided to  _ side _ with Hoynes over 286.” A third finger joined the first two. “You decided to make this  _ ridiculous _ claim of assault by a man twice your age!”

Sam had spent the last several weeks enduring Josh’s blind and manipulative enthusiasm followed by his disdain, and he’d had enough. “First of all, I’m spending time with Hoynes because he’s my  _ father _ . And for your information, we don’t talk about 286. Believe it or not, 286 is  _ not _ the axis upon which we all spin!”

Josh opened his mouth to counter, but Sam wasn’t done.

“ _ Second _ ,” he said, cutting Josh off, “I didn’t ‘suddenly’ decide anything. I  _ agreed _ with his point on internet access back when I learned about 286,  _ before _ I knew he was my father. Now, you might have missed this class in law school, but simply  _ ignoring _ the other party’s argument is no way to mount an offense!”

“I never-,” Josh tried.

“And third?” Sam wrenched his tie loose and tugged the collar of his shirt down, baring the vivid bruises around his neck. “That ‘ridiculous claim’ of assault you mentioned? That claim was made by the Secret Service  _ and my father _ after catching Winters  _ with his hands around my throat _ ! Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass for  _ two seconds _ , you’ll notice that there’s been more going on around here than just trying to pass a stupid bill!”

Josh was speechless, his face pale as his eyes stared at the bruises ringing Sam’s neck.

Sam released his collar and started to leave, but paused. “Oh, and the part about me being a completely different person?” he asked. “Since learning the truth about my family, I’ve felt more like myself than I ever have. Maybe you should keep that in mind the next time you decide to accuse me of ruining the work we’re doing here.”

Having said his piece, Sam brushed past Elliot and out of the office, leaving Josh staring, stunned, after him.

* * *

_ Friday, February 20 _

There was an undercurrent of tension thrumming through the press briefing room as Bartlet practiced his speech. No one commented on it or drew attention to it, but everyone knew it was there.

Toby and Sam were seated a few rows back from the podium, their heads bent together over a copy of the draft of the speech. Occasionally they would make marks or point at something on the paper in front of them, but never said anything urgent enough to stop the president.

Josh and Leo sat together near the middle of the room, watching Bartlet speak. CJ had claimed a chair near them, making her own notes to help her prepare for the follow-up questions that would come the day after the speech.

Toby mumbled something to Sam, who nodded and scratched a note on the draft, as Bartlet wound down. The president looked around at his staff. “That was better, I think. What about you?”

“Very good, Mr. President,” Leo responded. “Much more natural.”

Bartlet nodded, then sharpened his gaze. “Good,” he said. “So . . . mind telling me  _ now _ why 286 was not included  _ anywhere _ in this speech?”

CJ glanced over her shoulder at her coworkers. Leo and Toby’s expressions clearly stated their frustration with the rift 286 had caused in their team. To everyone’s surprise, Josh was mute on the subject.

Sam was careful to avoid looking in Josh’s direction. He felt somewhat guilty for losing his temper with his friend, but there was still enough anger left to stop him from seeking Josh out and apologizing.

Bartlet raised an eyebrow. “Don’t everyone answer all at once,” he said.

“We’ve run into some snags, Mr. President,” Leo said.

“I don’t want snags, Leo,” Bartlet replied, frowning. “I want solutions. I want to announce to Congress, and to the American people, that we’re putting computers in every classroom.”

“Do we really need to rush?” CJ asked. “I mean, it’s not like those classrooms are going anywhere.”

Bartlet turned to her. “And neither are those kids if we don’t try.” He glanced at his watch, then over at his aide who nodded at him. Looking back at Leo, he said, “I want our plan for 286 added to the speech. Make it happen.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Leo replied as everyone rose to their feet.

As soon as Bartlet had moved out of the room, the staffers gathered together around Leo. Leo looked at Josh. “You heard the president. Josh, what have we got?”

Josh wore a hangdog expression on his face. “Nothing.”

Leo gave him a warning look. “Josh . . .”

Josh held up his hands in surrender. “What?” he said. “I’m not being a smart ass! I leveraged every bit of our resources and tapped into as many contacts as I could, but it’s no use. Hoynes’ contacts have contacts, and that network is moving against us. We lost a ton of votes with Winters taken out of the picture, and what we have left  _ won’t _ get us 286.”

“There’s got to be  _ some _ thing we can do,” CJ insisted.

“There is,” Sam spoke up. “We talk to the vice president.”

Irritation flashed in Josh’s eyes, but it was much more subdued than in the past. “We’ve been over this.”

“No, you’ve just dismissed it each time I bring it up,” Sam replied. He looked at Leo. “No matter what angle we take, we keep coming at this like he’s on the other side of the fence.”

“Because he  _ is _ ,” Josh pointed out.

Sam ignored him. “Everyone we’ve talked to keeps telling us that we won’t get anywhere without the vice president’s support; why are we even trying? If we just set up a meeting-.”

“Sam, come on!” Josh cried. Noting the thoughtful expression on Leo’s face, he continued, “Leo, you can’t seriously be considering this! There’s  _ no way _ Hoynes will cave!”

“Why does he have to cave?” Sam demanded hotly. “It doesn’t have to be just  _ his _ way and  _ our _ way!”

Leo held up a hand. “All right, enough.” He looked at Josh. “How many votes can you guarantee me, right now?”

Josh shrugged and shook his head. “Enough to get it out of committee and onto the floor, but no further.”

“I’ll take that,” Leo stated. “Call our sponsor. Find out when we can go to the floor. That will buy us some time to work on the next step until after Tuesday.”

“Leo-,” Sam began.

“Toby, Sam,” Leo pressed on, stopping whatever Sam was about to say. “Work on a way to add 286 into the speech without going too heavily into specifics. Can you have it done by the end of the day?”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Toby placed a hand on his arm, warning him into silence.

“We’ll have it done, Leo,” Toby promised.

Leo nodded. “Good. Josh will get with you once he hears back from our sponsor.”

“Uh, Leo?” CJ spoke up. “While I’m sure this is a great plan to get us through Tuesday, I’m pretty sure it’s going to fall apart the minute the press briefing starts on Wednesday morning. They’re going to go hunting for those specifics.”

Leo glanced at Sam and Toby. “Go on and get started. I’ll touch base with you later.”

Toby tugged Sam away as Leo, Josh, and CJ began to lay the groundwork for Wednesday’s press briefing. Sam obediently followed, but couldn’t quite disguise the stormy look on his face.

“It’s for the best, Sam,” Toby stated, not unkindly, as they headed back to the communications bullpen.

Sam’s frown only deepened. “How is  _ not _ talking the better solution?”

“I’m not saying that,” Toby replied. “I’m saying that you’re too close to this issue to be objective. This is not something you want to be placed in the middle of.”

“I’m not in the middle,” Sam argued. “I’m not even on the edge of this.”

“Sam-,” Toby said wearily.

“We need to talk to the vice president if we want to get anywhere, and you know it!” Sam insisted.

Toby narrowed his eyes at Sam as they paused just outside of their respective offices. “Sam, you’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?”

“Of course not!” Sam protested.

Toby was unconvinced. “Sam!”

“I’m not going to do something stupid, Toby!”

* * *

Toby was right. This was stupid.

Sam paused in the doorway to his father’s West Wing office, finding Hoynes’ head bent over a file on his desk, his face a mask of concentration. Despite the assurances from Hoynes’ assistant that the vice president had time for the visit, Sam couldn’t help the flutter of nerves in his chest as he knocked tentatively on the open door.

Hoynes looked up, a smile immediately lighting up his face once he saw his son. “Sam,” he said warmly, standing and moving around his desk. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Sam entered the office, accepting the welcoming hug Hoynes offered. Hoynes gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, which Sam took.

“What brings you by?” Hoynes asked, taking the seat beside Sam.

Sam felt another flutter of nerves, but he swallowed them back. “I came because . . . I wanted to talk with you about 286.”

Surprise and dismay chased one another across Hoynes’ face before his expression became blank. “Oh?” he replied, leaning back.

Sam nodded. “This whole situation is ridiculous,” he stated, his pulse beginning to pick up with a wave of conviction. “Both of our staffs want to see 286 succeed, but we’re so busy trying to one-up each other that we’re losing sight of the original purpose behind the bill.”

“I see.” Hoynes’ tone was flat.

Sam was oblivious to the slowly growing anger simmering in Hoynes. “I really think that if we work together, we can make sure that 286 passes in a way we can  _ all _ be happy with. We just need to sit down together and talk about it. What do you think?”

Hoynes studied Sam’s earnest expression for a long moment. “I have to say,” he finally said, “I’m really disappointed in you.”

Sam reared back in utter shock. “What?”

Hoynes stood and moved to the nearest window, looking out but not seeing anything. He shook his head. “Jed must be getting desperate over 286 if he’s sending  _ you _ to me.”

“Nobody  _ sent _ me,” Sam snapped, offended. “I just thought-.”

“You just thought what?” Hoynes whirled around, eyes piercing Sam’s. “That you could manipulate  _ me _ the same way your staff tried to manipulate  _ Winters _ ?”

The accusation struck deep. Sam surged to his feet, hurt coloring his words. “Of course not! I’m not trying to manipulate  _ anybody _ ! I want to see 286 succeed just as much as you!”

“I don’t think you do!” Hoynes fired back. “If you did, then you and  _ your _ team would  _ listen _ to me when I tell you that it won’t work the way you’ve rewritten it! And now they’ve sent  _ you _ here to try and get me to agree to it! I’ll tell you something; I don’t appreciate you abusing your position as my son to try and get me to see things your way!”

The words were too similar to past rants by Winters for Sam not to react to them. “How can you say that?” he cried. “I’m not  _ abusing _ anything! I’m just trying to see if we can sit down and talk about this, but you’re being just as pigheaded as Josh!”

Hoynes jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you  _ dare _ compare me to Josh Lyman! He’s done nothing but try and bully his way through Congress to get people to vote his way because in  _ his _ mind,  _ his _ way is the only  _ right _ way!  _ He _ doesn’t care about anyone or any _ thing _ except getting ahead of the other guy! I knew that about him; hell I  _ expected _ it. What I  _ didn’t _ expect was for my own  _ son _ to be just as self-serving and narrow-minded as  _ him _ !”

Sam flinched back as if physically struck, his father’s words ringing in his ears. Whether it was the last chance to fix at least  _ one _ thing broken in his life, the hurt from Hoynes’ characterization of him, or the residual anger left over from his argument with Josh, Sam couldn’t say, but the dam within him finally burst.

“You know, I told Toby that this whole situation with being your son was too good to be true,” he said, feeling his heart breaking. “There was  _ no way _ you could be so understanding with me in all this; turns out I was right after all. I mean, Uncle Chris never bothered to listen to anything I had to say either.”

“I am  _ nothing _ like that abusive asshole!” Hoynes thundered.

“You never even gave me a chance to explain!” Sam shouted back on a second wave of anger. “You just  _ assumed _ that I would use our relationship for my own gain! Chris used to punish me for that very thing! I’m  _ tired _ of people always assuming the worst about me! I thought you were different! But  _ you’re _ just as bad as the  _ rest _ of them!”

“I’m your father-,” Hoynes started.

“So that gives you the right to act like I committed treason just for asking a damn question?” Sam cut him off. “If that’s what I can expect from now on, then forget it! I don’t need  _ you _ or  _ your family _ in my life!”

Tears burned in his eyes, but not a single drop fell as Sam stormed out of the office, leaving a shocked Hoynes gaping after him.

* * *

It was getting late. Most of the assistants had already left the West Wing for the day, and the few stragglers left were just packing up to go.

Toby glanced impatiently at his watch again, his attention split between the third revision of the administration goals speech and the window to Sam’s darkened office. Whatever it was that Sam said he needed to take care of should not be taking so long, though the vague nature of Sam’s rushed explanation told Toby that Sam was trying to hide something from him.

He glanced at his cell phone. He had Elliot’s number; had demanded it, in fact, once he became aware of Elliot’s identity. Sam might be ignoring his messages, but Elliot knew better.

Before Toby could convince himself that he wasn’t overreacting, John Hoynes suddenly appeared in his doorway. Toby immediately rose to his feet. “Mr. Vice President,” he stated respectfully.

“Toby.” Hoynes’ eyes scanned the office. “Sam’s . . . Sam’s not here?”

Toby shook his head. “No, sir, I haven’t seen him for a couple of hours. I was expecting him back a while ago.”

Hoynes ran a hand through his hair. Toby studied the man, noticing worry, shame, and regret on his face. Whatever had happened had done a number on him.

“Damn,” Hoynes swore under his breath. “I really need to find him.”

“Is everything okay?” Toby asked.

Hoynes stepped into the office. “No,” he replied honestly. Pained eyes met Toby’s. “Sam came by my office earlier. I think . . . I really screwed up. I need to find him to apologize, but I don’t know where he is. My detail won’t tell me because Sam told  _ his _ detail not to. Suzanne says he’s not at home, but I don’t know where else to look.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?” Toby asked.

Hoynes rubbed his face with both hands. “I lost my temper,” he admitted. “He came to talk to me about 286 and I didn’t take it well. I said some things . . . I said  _ a lot _ of things I didn’t mean. Please, Toby; if you know where he is . . .”

“I might,” Toby said. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll see if I can’t track him down?”

Toby almost felt uncomfortable at the depth of gratitude emanating from Hoynes.

“ _ Thank _ you, Toby,” he said. “I . . . thank you.”

Toby nodded, collecting his cell phone and walking out of his office. He paused long enough to fire off a quick text and, receiving a response to his query, headed in the direction of the Mess.

Two of Sam’s security detail were positioned in front of the closed doors when Toby arrived. Neither agent stopped him from pulling open the door and walking into the darkened room.

Upon first, and even second glance, the room appeared deserted. Chairs had been turned upside down and placed on tables, and the faint scent of cleaner filled the air. Toby moved further inside, his eyes scanning for his deputy.

A faint, rhythmic sound reached his ears through the silence. Toby followed it around a corner and found Sam’s slumped figure on the floor, morosely tossing coffee stirs and a variety of sugar and ketchup packets into a silver bowl several feet away. Hovering nearby was Elliot, who looked relieved as he nodded at Toby and moved back to give the two men some privacy.

Toby wordlessly walked over to Sam and sank onto the floor beside him. He watched Sam’s unerring aim for a few moments, knowing Sam would break the silence when he was ready.

His patience was rewarded. “I did something stupid.”

Toby kept his eyes on the silver bowl. “I figured.”

_ Thunk _ . “I screwed up,” Sam admitted.

“Everyone screws up now and again,” Toby replied. “That’s not surprising.”

Sam switched to coffee stirs again, tossing a couple more. “I ruined everything.”

Toby glanced at him and read the abject misery in Sam’s eyes. He turned his attention back to the bowl. “Can’t be  _ that _ bad.”

Sam faltered at his next toss. He shook his head. “It’s worse. Being Charlie Hoynes . . . it was the best thing that ever happened to me, and now it’s gone.”

Toby frowned, confused. “Pretty sure you can’t just  _ undo _ being him.”

Sam’s smile was bitter as he switched to tossing ketchup packets into the bowl. “I said some stupid stuff. I doubt Hoynes ever wants to see me again.”

Toby once again found himself wondering just what had happened between father and son. “Well, given that I have a very distraught vice president wearing a hole in the floor of my office upstairs, I’d have to disagree.”

A ketchup packet suddenly flew wide at the pronouncement. Shocked blue eyes turned to Toby.

“He . . . he  _ is _ ?” Sam stammered, incredulous. “ _ Why _ ?”

Toby turned bodily to face Sam. “From what I can tell, he’s been trying to find you since you left. He said he had to find you to apologize.”

Shame dropped Sam’s eyes to the floor. “ _ He _ shouldn’t apologize.  _ I _ should. The things I said . . .” He peeked up at Toby. “I told him I didn’t need him  _ or _ his family. How could he even  _ look _ at me after that?”

Toby fought back a wave of fond exasperation. “Sam, you are  _ not _ the first person to get angry and say things you regret to your father. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’ll happen again, given how very similar your tempers are. There’s nothing wrong with having an argument. What’s  _ wrong _ is allowing things said in anger to fester and drive a wedge between you.”

Sam’s shoulders sagged. “He hates me,” he said lowly. “He’s never liked  _ any _ of us, especially since the president won the nomination. And  _ our _ staff can’t stand  _ him _ .” Pained blue eyes shimmered in the dim light. “I don’t know what to do.”

“ _ You _ don’t have to do anything,” Toby countered. “Yeah, our two staffs don’t always get along, and sure, there’s been some minor feud with Hoynes and Bartlet. But that doesn’t have anything to do with  _ you _ . At the end of the day, you’re his  _ son _ , and that’s all that matters.”

Sam nodded, half-convinced at the words.

Toby considered him. “I’ll tell you, though; the man who I’ve seen go toe-to-toe with Jed Bartlet and Leo McGarry? The man who isn’t afraid to shout down belligerent congressmen and lobbyists alike without blinking? That’s not the same guy who’s been meeting you for breakfast, or who rushed through the hospital when news of that fire hit. And it’s  _ definitely _ not the same guy upstairs who is frantically searching for you. That man is your father, and no matter what else happens, he is  _ always _ going to put your best interests before his own.”

A small, hopeful smile grew on Sam’s face. “Thanks, Toby.”

Toby patted Sam’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he replied. “Now, the way I see it, you’ve got three options. Option one: I take you upstairs to my office and the two of you get your apologies out of the way now. Then you take the weekend to square things with each other. Option two: I sneak you out the back and take you to your apartment. Of course, that leaves the possibility of unexpected visitors, but you call Hoynes from there and let him know that you’ll talk to him tomorrow. Then you take the weekend to square things between you.”

“And option three?” Sam asked, unable to help the small, amused smile.

“Option three: I sneak you out the back and take you home with me,” Toby told him. “This option guarantees no unexpected visitors, but you call Hoynes and let him know you’ll talk tomorrow.”

“And take the weekend to square things between us?” Sam added, his smile growing. He swiped at his eyes.

Toby smiled back. “So?” he said. “What’ll it be?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I guess there’s no point in delaying the inevitable, huh?”

“Attaboy.” Toby stood and held out a hand to help Sam up. “Come on. Let’s go and put your dad out of his misery.”

They fell into a companionable silence as they made their way back to the communications bullpen, flanked at a discrete distance by Sam’s security detail. The closer they drew to Toby’s office, the more Sam’s steps began to slow. Toby could practically feel Sam’s renewed anxiety and doubt rolling off of the younger man.

Toby slowed and paused beside Ginger’s desk, gesturing for Sam to keep walking. Sam took several more steps, but stopped just shy of the door to Toby’s office the instant his eyes fell on Hoynes’ frenetically pacing form.

Hoynes glanced up as he spun around and froze when he found Sam watching him. Father and son stared mutely at one another, neither one certain how to begin.

Sam cleared his throat nervously. “Um . . . hi.”

Hoynes took a single step forward. “Hi,” he said quietly.

Sam saw none of Hoynes’ earlier anger or disdain and found the courage to continue. “I . . . I said some things that . . . that I shouldn’t have said. I let my temper get the better of me, and . . . I need to apologize . . . I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t mean-.”

Hoynes suddenly surged forward, grabbing hold of Sam and gathering him into a tight embrace. Sam tensed at the sudden move, but barely a minute passed when he melted into the hug, clinging just as tightly to his father and burying wet eyes into Hoynes’ shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Hoynes told him. “ _ I _ do. You were right; I wasn’t listening to you, and I should have.”

He gently pulled back and ducked to catch Sam’s eyes.

“We need to talk,” he stated. “And we will. But I need you to understand right now that I love you, and  _ nothing _ will  _ ever _ change that.”

Sam nodded, words tangled into a lump in his throat. Hoynes smiled sadly and drew him back into a hug, tightening his arms around Sam. Sam’s arms squeezed back in response.

Lifting his gaze, Hoynes sought out Toby in the dimly lit bullpen. “Thank you,” he said, the depth of his gratitude clear on his face.

Toby nodded and silently moved away, leaving father and son to their reconciliation.

* * *

end chapter 12


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Last chapter! What a ride! This has been a project 6 months in the making, and it’s finally finished. Thank you to everyone for your comments, kudos, and support! I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this story.
> 
> With the holidays here, I’m going to take a break from writing for a few days, then see where the muse takes me. Happy Holidays everyone!

_ Saturday, February 21 _

Leo walked up to the front door of Observatory Circle for the second time that week and knocked firmly on the door. He glanced around as he waited, ostensibly looking for Secret Service agents, but he knew he wouldn’t find many. Though he had no doubt they knew he was there, he knew most of them would be keeping a low profile.

The door opened, revealing the vice president. “Leo,” Hoynes greeted, stepping to one side to let Leo enter. “The Secret Service said you were here, but I wasn’t sure I believed them.”

Leo stepped inside. “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced.

Hoynes closed the door and gestured for Leo to follow him. “If you’re looking for Sam, I’m afraid he’s not here. Suzanne took the boys to Arlington.”

The two moved into the sitting room. “Arlington?” Leo asked, surprised. “The suburbs?”

“The cemetery.” Hoynes gestured for Leo to take a seat, then sat beside him. “Suzanne wanted to take him; her grandfather is buried there, you know.”

Leo nodded. “Actually, I’m here to see you. Sam being out might make this conversation easier.”

Hoynes grimaced slightly. “I take it you head about yesterday?”

“You could say that,” Leo replied, a faint hint of amusement tingeing his tone. “Toby came by my office last night and made it clear in no uncertain terms that this feud over 286 needs to stop.” He smiled ruefully. “Good thing Margaret had already gone home for the day, or it’d be all over the West Wing by now.”

Hoynes snorted in amusement. “You know, you wouldn’t know it to look at him, but Toby’s been a damn good friend to Sam. Better than anyone, to be honest.”

Leo nodded in agreement. “I want you to know that I never told Sam to go to you. Hell, I didn’t even know he’d  _ gone _ to your office until Toby filled me in. No one did; he did that on his own.”

Hoynes looked down at his hands. “I know that now. He’d said as much at the time, but I didn’t listen.”

An uneasy silence settled over them, each man reflecting over past actions.

Leo let out a low breath. “I’m sorry, John.”

Hoynes’ head snapped to him in surprise.

I never tried to understand where you were coming from on 286,” Leo explained. “We might have avoided a lot of problems if I’d tried listening first.”

Hoynes felt his shoulders sag as tension seeped out of them. “I’m not sure I would have been open to talking about it,” he admitted. “I’m not the most approachable person when it comes to 286.”

The two exchanged amused smiles, silence once more taking over.

“Sam was right about it from the start, you know,” Leo suddenly said.

“Right about what?” Hoynes asked.

“He’s been advocating for both of our offices to sit together and hash all this out,” Leo told him. “He even made the point during one of our meetings that you weren’t the enemy.”

Hoynes was abashed. “I should have listened to him.”

“We  _ both _ should have,” Leo corrected. “For a kid, he’s awfully smart.”

Hoynes gave Leo a curious look. “What brings you by, Leo?”

Leo smiled. “It’s short notice, but how do you feel about your staff and mind sitting down together to talk about how we can get 286 through Congress?”

“You don’t think we’re just beating a dead horse by this point?” Hoynes asked.

“I think it’s more like a case of the right hand not knowing what the left is doing,” Leo stated. “It’s like we keep having two different conversations about 286.”

Hoynes leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know, Leo . . .”

“What could it hurt to hear each other out?” Leo pressed.

Hoynes met Leo’s gaze and read the sincerity he found there. He nodded in acquiescence.

Leo stood. “Great,” he said. “I’ll have Margaret get in touch with the details. I know it doesn’t always seem like it, John, but I want 286 to succeed, too. Who knows? Maybe we can put our heads together and make it happen.”

Hoynes stood and walked with Leo back to the door. “From your lips to God’s ears.” They paused at the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, Leo.”

Leo nodded. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Tell Sam . . . tell Sam he was right all along. We . . . I should have listened to him.”

“I’ll do that,” Hoynes promised.

Leo opened the door. “See you Monday, John.”

“Have a good night, Leo,” Hoynes replied.

Leo stepped outside, closing the door behind him with a firm  _ click _ .

* * *

_ Monday, February 23 _

The door slammed shut behind Toby, rattling the frames on the wall. “You’re an ass!”

Josh glanced up from where he had been shoving folders into his backpack. “As much as I enjoy our witty repartee, I need to get to the Hill. Hoynes canceled his appointments up there today for some reason. I want to try and squeeze a couple more votes for our side before he has the chance to undercut me again.”

“You’re staying put,” Toby stated.

“You know, despite all appearances, you’re not  _ actually _ the boss of me,” Josh shot back. He closed his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. “Why don’t you go find Sam? I’m sure he’s waiting in your office to tell you about his uncle, the Prime Minister of England or something.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you. And I might not be your boss, but Leo  _ is _ . And  _ Leo _ is the one who scheduled a meeting between our staff and Hoynes’ this afternoon.”

Josh’s backpack slid down his arm and landed on the floor at his feet with a loud  _ thunk _ . “What?” he cried.

Toby nodded. “Hoynes canceled his appointments on the Hill for this meeting,” he told Josh. “He’s willing to sit and talk about what it would take to pass 286.”

Josh shook his head. “That sounds like something Sam would say,” he said bitterly.

“Just what the hell is your problem?” Toby demanded.

“ _ My _ problem?” Josh echoed, his voice rising. “ _ I _ don’t have a problem!  _ I’m _ working my ass off  _ doing my job _ while everyone else has been busy with Sam’s new family!”

“Is  _ that _ it?” Toby pressed. “You’re feeling left out?”

“I’m supposed to be his best friend!” Josh yelled.

“So, what, he should have told you first?” Toby asked.

“You’re  _ damn right _ he should have told me first!” Josh cried. “Why the hell didn’t he?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Toby snapped. “Could it be because ten seconds after you found out, you made it all about  _ you _ ? Could it be that he needed someone who could be  _ objective _ about the fact that his entire life is in an uproar, and his best friend and his father are at each other’s throats?”

Josh blinked in shock at Toby, the truth of his words taking the wind right out of his sails.

“Do  _ I _ think he should have told you first?” Toby ranted. “Yeah, I do! But you were so busy trying to figure out just how far up your ass you could stick your head that he came to me! Maybe if you take a step back and think about what  _ Sam’s _ going through instead of yourself, you’d figure it out!”

He turned and wrenched the door open. “Oh, and that meeting with Leo and Hoynes? You’re going too. One o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Toby stormed out. Josh stared dumbly after Toby for a long moment, then glanced down at his backpack. Looking over at his computer screen, he took a deep breath.

“DONNA!”

* * *

It was a curious and intrigued group of people that slowly filtered into the Roosevelt room that afternoon, eyes automatically cataloguing the faces of those already there before breaking off to join friends at the large table. Sam couldn’t blame them; he could only recall one other time when the president’s staff and vice president’s staff had met together, both groups preferring to do their jobs with minimal contact from the other.

A low murmuring filled the room, too low for anyone to make out their neighbor’s conversations, but the same general question seemed to be on everyone’s lips. Sam wondered how everyone would react once the purpose for their meeting was revealed. He knew this meeting was long overdue and desperately needed, but the events of the previous Friday were too fresh for him to feel confident in his opinion.

He fidgeted nervously in his seat, accidentally bumping Toby beside him. Toby looked over at him.

“Calm down,” he said. “This was  _ your _ idea.”

“It was  _ also _ my idea to talk to my dad last Friday,” Sam immediately countered. “We saw how  _ that _ turned out.”

“You seem back to your usual idealistic self as of this morning, so it seemed to have worked out okay,” Toby stated.

Several more people walked into the room. Josh was among them, his expression downcast as he moved to claim a chair further down the table. Sam frowned in concern at him.

“What’s wrong with Josh?” he asked.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?” Toby asked.

Sam shook his head, still watching his friend. “I know Josh. Something’s up.”

Toby grunted. “We had some words earlier. Maybe he’s finally decided to remove his head from his ass.”

Sam turned to him in surprise. “What did you say?”

“Mostly, ‘take your head out of your ass’,” Toby quipped.

The vice president chose that moment to arrive. Everyone rose to their feet, Sam still trying to wrap his head around what Toby had said.

Hoynes nodded at the staffers, waving them back to their seats. He greeted a few of his own staff by name, thanking them for rearranging their schedules. The smile he gave Sam sent the tension melting out of his frame.

“I’m glad to see I’m not too late,” Hoynes stated. He glanced at his Chief of Staff, who had just joined him. “Mark. Good.” He looked around. “Who are we still missing?”

“Steve was meeting with CJ during lunch,” Mark told him. “They should both be here any minute but that’s our staff.”

“The president had a meeting that couldn’t be rescheduled, and Leo’s with him,” Toby added. “They’ll be here soon.”

Hoynes nodded and moved to sit across from Sam at the table. “How’s the speech coming?” he asked Sam and Toby. “From what Sam tells me, it’s almost done.”

Toby nodded. “Thankfully, that’s true. And if we've learned anything from this, it’s that planning the State of the Union Address for next year will begin on Wednesday.”

Hoynes chuckled as Steve and CJ walked into the room, still deep in discussion as they took a couple of chairs near Josh.

Barely another minute passed when the door opened again and Bartlet strode in with Leo at his side. Everyone in the room stood again as Bartlet said, “Good afternoon! How is everyone doing?”

Several variations of ‘doing well’ answered him. Bartlet nodded and sat at the head of the table. Leo took the chair next to him as everyone settled back down.

Bartlet’s eyes sought out Hoynes. “John, thank you for agreeing to meet with us, especially with just a couple day’s notice.”

“Of course, sir,” Hoynes replied. “I’m looking forward to seeing what we can accomplish here.”

Bartlet cast his gaze around the table. “I’m sure some of you are wondering why we called this meeting.” He looked at his Chief of Staff. “Leo?”

Leo nodded and took over. “It’s no secret to anyone here that the president’s staff has been working towards moving an amended version of the vice president’s bill 286 to the floor for a vote. We called this meeting to find a way to come together and modify 286 in a way that we could all see as effective so it can pass and help its intended recipients.”

Sam noted the disbelief passing over several faces.

“John, why don’t you share some background on 286 with us?” Leo suggested.

Hoynes met the eyes shifting to him with practiced confidence. “I became aware of a serious achievement gap between students in affluent schools and students of poverty. Research at the time reported a number of factors, including homel life, education level of parents, teacher qualifications, and so on. One major trend that I believed the government could help fix was access to resources. Now, when I wrote 286, technology was still being developed and costs were quite high. The internet was also nowhere near what it is now, but over the years, it’s become given that students with access to a global community can learn and grow and be more prepared to compete in the job market after they graduate. Right now, there is a wide _and_ _increasing_ gap between our minority populations, and it’s our responsibility as their leaders to do what we must to see them succeed.”

Hoynes’ passion and belief swept the room, injecting a similar fervor into those in attendance.

Bartlet nodded. “Well said,” he replied. “And I agree with you. We need to find a way to reach those schools and students who need our help.”

Hoynes smiled ruefully. “Unfortunately, Congress disagrees. To reach this goal, it’s going to cost the taxpayers a significant amount of money. If we can get around the cost, we won’t have a problem passing 286.”

“Which is why my staff has proposed we expand ‘computers’ to ‘devices’ to allow for more cost-efficient options,” Bartlet stated.

Hoynes nodded. “Which is a good idea.”

“And we drop the section on providing internet access,” Bartlet finished.

A scowl tugged down Hoynes’ smile. “Which, as I’ve stated before, makes 286 pointless. What good are computers and tablets if students can’t access the internet with them?”

“What are students supposed to do with internet if we don’t give them computers to connect it to?” Josh pointed out.

A speechwriter from Hoynes’ staff that Sam knew vaguely as Rick spoke up. “Is there  _ no _ way to fund both?”

Hoynes shook his head. “We narrowed the scope down to low-income/high-need schools only in one of 286’s amendments, but the cost for both was  _ still _ too high. Funding for that smaller population would still require a tax hike to cover it, and there’s no way it would make it out of the House.”

“Couldn’t schools pay for one or the other?” CJ suggested.

“Not the schools that would qualify for this,” Sam spoke up. “Their funding is scaled back enough as it is. They wouldn’t be able to cover either one.”

“Why not work out a deal with companies to donate devices to us?” Steve said. “That would free us up to pay for the internet access.”

“Those companies would lose millions of dollars,” Josh said. “They might be able to swing a couple, but a couple million?”

“Besides, a monthly cost for internet access would make the government pay far more than anything we would pay for devices,” Leo added.

“And we’re right back where we started,” said CJ. “Pay for devices and not the internet.”

“Not necessarily,” Rick said. “Lots of families nowadays have smartphones and cheaper tablets. If we provide wifi to them, it would help cut cellular costs.”

“Using that logic, we could provide devices and send them to businesses that provide free wifi,” Josh countered. “A lot more businesses are doing that now.”

Through the discussion, Hoynes was painfully aware of how silent Sam was. He watched his son carefully, his weeks of engaging in debates over breakfast helping him to recognize the signs of Sam biting back his arguments.

“Sam?” Hoynes quietly prompted.

Sam looked at him. “Sir?”

Hoynes tilted his head slightly. “What do you think?”

Sam glanced around, finding everyone’s attention shifted to him. He turned back to Hoynes, shaking his head. “Nothing, sir.”

Hoynes knew better by now than to take Sam’s response at face value. “So you agree that providing internet access is our best option?”

Sam looked up and down the table again before meeting Hoynes’ expectant look. “I . . . no, sir.”

Josh’s expression turned smug. “So we go with devices.”

Sam shook his head again. “Sorry, Josh, but that’s not going to work, either. The vice president is right; schools need the internet access in order to show any significant growth in achievement. Just having computers won’t be enough.” He turned to Hoynes. “The president is right, too. Having the internet access with nothing to connect it to is about as effective as buying a leash and not adopting the dog. The only way 286 will work is if we find a way to provide  _ both _ .”

“So 286 goes back into a drawer,” Mark stated in dismay.

“I don’t accept that,” Bartlet disagreed. “This is a  _ good bill _ . It’s going to do a lot of good for the students in this country.”

Sam’s mind whirred with possible solutions, one germ of an idea beginning to take root.

“Sure, but unless someone agrees to foot the bill, there’s nothing we can do,” Josh pointed out. “I mean, we were close to a solution with Winters, but that didn’t exactly work out.”

Hoynes’ attention was back on Sam, watching patiently as one thought after another chased across his face. Sam’s eyes lifted, meeting Hoynes’. Hoynes quirked an eyebrow.

“Subsidies.” The word seemed to fall off of Sam’s lips.

Everyone stopped and looked at Sam. “What?” Leo asked.

Sam zeroed in on Bartlet. “Sir, what if we offer subsidies to telecommunications companies that agree to build new internet towers and donate access to their network to low-income schools at a reduced cost  _ without _ raising fees for internet plans?”

A stunned silence filled the room as everyone worked to process Sam’s words.

“And you think those companies will just go for that?” Rick finally asked.

“Why not?” Sam said. “We offer subsidies in agriculture, for dairy farmers, for energy companies. It works for them.”

Josh’s smile suggested he wasn’t entirely certain if Sam was serious. “Well, yeah, but those all provide products that we need.”

“What, we don’t need  _ this _ ?” Sam countered. “Think about it; every year since its inception, computers, phones, tablets, all of this has grown more and more in demand. The internet is expanding with new information, new ways to communicate and collaborate, and with new uses we’re still coming up with. Why  _ can’t _ we use subsidies for these companies?”

“What about the hit to their profit margins?” Steve asked. “They’d be providing internet access to families who couldn’t afford it anyway.”

“Look, these companies are looking to build new towers anyway to meet the growing demand for internet access and speed,” Sam stated. “And they’re building them on land they don’t own, which of course, they’d have to pay for. They could even work out a deal with the schools we’d be asking them to help; instead of paying with money, they pay with internet access at a significantly reduced cost. They aren’t losing current customers, and are actually  _ adding on _ a new bracket of clients.”

“Clients who still might not be able to afford the monthly fees,” Hoynes reminded him.

“The cost of which could be covered by the subsidies,” Sam insisted.

A low thrum of excitement began to build in the room.

Josh held up a finger. “Why not just raise taxes on the construction of towers?” he suggested.

“At the end of the day, these companies are still trying to turn a profit,” Toby spoke up. “If we raise taxes,  _ they _ raise their fees. We might actually  _ lose _ money going that route.”

“So if companies get a tax break, they can afford to build more towers,” Hoynes summed up, turning the idea over in his head. “More towers, more access.”

Sam nodded earnestly. “And that would free up funds from Appropriations for the devices. We might not be able to get enough for every single student right now, but we  _ could _ help schools get there.”

Hoynes looked over at Bartlet. Bartlet raised his eyebrows at Hoynes.

“Well, John?” Bartlet asked. “What do you think?”

Hoynes glanced at Sam, who was watching in avid anticipation. He turned back to the president.

“I think we’re going to need some help to pull this off, but I think we’re finally on the right track,” Hoynes declared.

The excitement rose several notches.

“Agreed,” Bartlet stated. “Would you like to take the lead on the committee? It’s only fitting, after all.”

“If I can borrow some of your people?” Hoynes asked with a small smile.

“Only borrow,” Bartlet agreed, pointing at Hoynes and smiling. “Not keep.” He clapped his hands together. “Excellent work, everyone. I look forward to seeing this come together.”

The president stood, bringing everyone to their feet. As soon as he had left the room, Leo on his heels, everyone turned to Hoynes.

“If you’d like to volunteer for the committee, please see Mark,” Hoynes announced. “He’ll be in touch with you after a few days. Great work, everyone.”

At the dismissal, everyone broke off into groups. Several left right away while a few more lingered. Sam started to walk to the door with Toby, needing to revise the administration goals speech, when Hoynes intercepted him and caught his elbow.

“Thank you, Sam,” he said.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “But . . . I didn’t really do anything.”

“You made it possible for me to keep a promise to your mother,” Hoynes told him. “I’m proud of you.”

Sam blushed at the praise. He gave his father a shy smile.

“Sam!”

Hoynes and Sam turned to where Toby was hovering in the doorway.

“We have a speech to revise!” Toby barked. “Are you planning on coming or not?”

Sam let out a huff of laughter. “I better go,” he told Hoynes.

Hoynes nodded. “Me too. Still on for dinner tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Sam replied. “I’ll text if I’m running late.”

As he headed to join Toby, Sam caught Josh’s eyes. For the first time since the truth of his family had come to light, Sam could find no sign of anger or hostility.

Following Toby out of the room, Sam allowed himself to feel a spark of hope for salvaging their friendship.

* * *

_ Tuesday, February 24 _

The sun was not yet up as Sam walked through the West Wing towards his office. The lights were still dimmed in deference to the early hour, and aside from the security staff and custodians, it felt as though Sam had the wing all to himself.

With the address that evening, Sam wanted to get a head start on his inbox before Hoynes arrived for breakfast. As Elliot preceded him into the office, Sam reflected on the difference it made to have a family to balance out his work life. Before, he would have simplys stayed overnight to get work done.

Sam had just set his briefcase on his desk and was shaking off his winter coat when he suddenly caught sight of a figure sitting nearby in the corner of his eye. He jerked in surprise, arms still tangled up in his sleeves.

Josh gave him a small wave. “Morning, Sam.”

“Josh?” Sam finished removing his coat. “What the hell? Why are you sitting in the dark? In my office?” He turned to Elliot, who had a long-suffering expression on his face. “Did  _ you _ know he was in here?”

“I did,” Elliot replied. “I saw him when I walked in. Clearly we still need to work on your situational awareness.”

Sam glared at him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Josh said. “The lamp was on. I thought you might be here.”

Sam glanced at his desk lamp. Sure enough, it was switched on. He frowned at Josh. “You wanted to see me? Does Elliot need to stay to referee?”

To Sam’s surprise, Josh’s expression became abashed. He shook his head. “No, I . . . I wanted to apologize.”

Sam stared at Josh, stunned. Looking over at Elliot, he nodded. Elliot nodded back and quietly left the office, but left the door open behind him.

Sam turned back to Josh. “Apologize?”

Josh leaned forward in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Turns out, I’ve been acting like an ass the last few weeks instead of a friend. You’ve had your whole life upended, and I certainly didn’t make things easier for you.”

Sam didn’t disagree. He nodded mutely and looked away.

“I’m sorry, man,” Josh said softly. “I wish I could go back and do it right. Be a better friend.”

The two lapsed into silence for a few minutes.

“How, um . . . how are you?” Josh tried. “How is it being Hoynes’ son?”

Sam lowered his chin, giving Josh a doubtful look. “You really want to know?”

Josh nodded emphatically.

A faint smile appeared on Sam’s lips. “It’s good,” he answered. “Great. He’s a great dad. He helped me a lot this last month.”

Josh nodded again, this time thoughtfully. “That’s good. That’s really good.” He glanced around the office. “I, um . . . I kind of expected you to have stayed overnight again. What with the administration goals speech tonight.”

Sam shrugged. “I probably would have, but Mom wanted me to come home for dinner last night. Especially since Dad and I are going to be out late tonight with the speech.”

“Right.” Josh fell silent again.

Sam took pity on Josh, seeing him make the effort to try and reconnect. “I’m still  _ me _ , Josh. I’m still the same guy you met back when we were congressional aides together. The same guy you came and got in New York. Hoynes being my father didn’t change anything about that.”

Josh snorted. “Right, yeah. I know. It’s just . . . I can’t quite imagine Hoynes as a  _ dad _ .”

Sam chuckled. “It was hard for me at first, too, but you get used to it.”

Josh laughed with him. He glanced at his watch and stood. “Well . . . I better let you get to it. You’ve got a big night tonight.”

He started to leave. Sam was suddenly hit with a flash of inspiration. “Josh?”

Josh paused and looked back.

“I’m meeting up with Jake and Jamie for lunch today,” he told Josh. “Would you like to join us?”

Surprise and uncertainty flickered across Josh’s face. “Oh, I don’t want to intrude on your time with your brothers.”

Sam felt encouraged by the utter lack of disdain this time. “ _ You’re _ my brother too, Josh. You could never be intruding.”

Josh began to smile. “Okay. Sure. Sounds like fun. See you then?”

Sam nodded. “We’ll swing by your office.”

Josh nodded and left, a light bounce to his step.

Smiling, Sam settled behind his desk and booted up his computer. He pulled folders from his inbox in front of him, settling into his work with a lighter heart than he’d had in a long time.

* * *

END


End file.
